


Worlds Collide

by themayqueen



Series: Worlds Collide [1]
Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, College, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Loss of Parent(s), Religion, Religious Conflict, Religious Fanaticism, Running Away, Secrets, Shout It Out Era, Therapy, past Taylor Hanson/Natalie Hanson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 76,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/pseuds/themayqueen
Summary: Maureen ran away from home to escape a bad situation. She didn’t know what she would find, but she definitely didn’t expect Taylor Hanson. He’s like no one she’s ever known before, and she doesn’t know whether to try to break down his walls or run for cover.





	1. Won't Ever Be Your Cornerstone

Maureen stared out the car window at the endless flat land sprawled out in front of her. She wasn't even sure what state they were in anymore. She thought they had probably made it to Arkansas by now, but Texas seemed to take ages to drive through. No matter where they were, or where they were going, Maureen knew she couldn't let herself get attached to it. Each new town was just a stopping place; there was nowhere she or her family belonged.

They stayed in the last town longer than most, and longer than she had expected. It wasn't long enough for Maureen to make friends, but she never did no matter how long they stayed somewhere. The plain girl in the old dresses, with the long curly hair and the strange preacher for a father just wasn't the type of girl any kids wanted to befriend. But this time, they had stayed in one place long enough for the guidance counselor to take notice of her good grades and help her fill out a few college applications.

Her parents didn't know. They didn't even know she had sneaked away to take the entrance exams, and they certainly hadn't seen her filling out the applications when she was supposed to be doing her Bible study. They couldn't know about any of that, and they definitely couldn't know about the letter from Northwestern University hidden in a pocket inside her suitcase. She hadn't even looked at it yet, and she didn't know when she would find the courage to-–if she found it at all.

She kept her suitcase close to her during the drive. Even if she was too afraid to open the letter, just knowing it was there gave her hope. It was the only thing that helped her to keep from screaming when she was uprooted once again and forced into their car to drive to some new town.

Their new home was even smaller than the last. That's how it seemed to go. Money was tight at the best of times, and at the worst of times, Maureen was almost afraid to see what new shack they would end up in. This house, in some podunk Arkansas town, would have looked like it was stuck in a time warp if all the 1970's wallpaper hadn't been peeling off the walls and the carpet stained so badly it was difficult to tell its original color.

The rooms were still halfway furnished, like whoever had lived there before didn't have the energy to finish moving out. Crosses and paintings and Jesus were scattered around the halfway-floral walls, and Maureen wondered how her dad had found the place. He would say it was a sign. She imagined it was probably a little old lady whose family didn't bother to get rid of her stuff after she died.

There were only two bedrooms, and Maureen claimed the one with the window overlooking a big field. It seemed to stretch on forever, and she liked the symbolism. She could imagine that the whole world lay outside that window, just within her grasp. But her whole world lay either in the contents of a letter she was still afraid to open, or in the ramshackle building down the road that her father was going to convert into a church.

Starting his own church was her father's dream, but she couldn't imagine how it could ever come together in this tiny, half abandoned town. A part of her wanted to stick around and see if it came to fruition, but she knew that wasn't a real possibility. College or not, Maureen could not envision herself staying in this family any longer. It wasn't her dream.

****

The new house and town felt as much like home as any other place had, which wasn't much at all. It was early spring, and Maureen could feel all the potential around, all the newness blossoming. She hoped some of that potential would come her way and help her make her escape easily.

Her father's new church still wasn't usable, despite his weeks of work, so the small group of followers he had accumulated met in the living room of that tiny house every Sunday and Wednesday. She wasn't required to attend the Wednesday meetings anymore, as long as she promised to do a little studying on her own. It was a sort of freedom she wasn't accustomed to, and she took full advantage of it.

The new house was on a lonely street, if you could even call it that; the houses were almost miles apart and traffic was few and far between, except for the cars coming to her father's prayer meetings. Maureen was, somehow, free to wander up and down the long road as long as she had her Bible in hand. It didn't matter that she slammed it shut as soon as she lost sight of their porch. Father would never know the difference, she thought. She was safe to just be alone with herself for a while.

There were days that she imagined walking down that road as long as it would carry her. Like so many little roads in the midwest, it seemed to stretch on forever with no end. It could carry her miles away from that town and away from her family before they even realized she was gone. She could be free.

Maureen didn't really know why she longed so much to be free, but she knew without a doubt that she did. There was an entire world outside of what she had been taught – a world that couldn't have even been dreamed of by the men who wrote the book her father hung his life upon. She only got glimpses of it here and there when she attended school. It was only because of her father's paranoia that Maureen was afforded that tiny bit of freedom. She had seen the way other families like theirs were scrutinized by one government agency or another. She knew her father didn't want the government to take too close of a look at their family, and homeschooling her would only have attracted their attention. That was something she knew her father wouldn't stand for.

Yes, Maureen wanted out. Maureen _needed_ out. She needed to know what else the world contained. She needed a life that wasn't Bible verses, itchy dresses that got her teased at school, and constant fear of stepping over the invisible lines her father drew all around her. His fear of the world seemed to be growing by the day. Everything was a temptation, everything was the devil working around them. 

But when Maureen went on her long walks down that road, she didn't see the devil at all. She only saw a pure, blank slate laid out in front of her. She only saw possibility and opportunity, and she wanted to seize it.

The sun was low in the sky when she finally started to walk back toward the house. She didn't have a watch or a cell phone to check the time on, but she was pretty sure that her father would be finished preaching by the time she got back. There might be a few hangers-on still lingering around, ooh-ing and ah-ing over her mother's cooking or discussing church business, but the majority of the crowd would already be gone.

Just as she suspected, there were no cars left in the driveway or the yard when she approached the house. The living room light was still on, but she couldn't make out any figures moving around. That meant they had finished up especially early and she would have an hour or two of peace before her early bedtime.

The screen door creaked when she opened it and she winced at the sound. The house was eerily quiet and that one creak seemed to echo throughout it.

“Maureen.”

It was her father's voice, the stern tone he reserved for times when she had done something especially wrong. She tried to call up a Bible verse she could claim to have been contemplating during her walk, but they all seemed to have vanished from her mind. Everything was a blank – she couldn't think of any other possible infraction she could have been called up for, but she didn't doubt his ability to find some new something to punish her for.

As much as she dreaded walking into the kitchen to receive her punishment, she knew that delaying would only make it worse. With her Bible clutched tightly to her chest to still her shaking hands, Maureen crossed the living room and cautiously stepped into the kitchen. Her mother and father were both sitting at the table facing the doorway, as though they had been waiting a long time for her to return and face them. An envelope lay open on the table and Maureen knew instantly what it was.

“I found this in your suitcase today,” her mother said. Her voice was shaky, as though she had been crying. “I was looking for that dress you ripped so I could patch it up, and then I found... this...”

Her father was stern and steady, though. He didn't cry. “When did you do this? Without our knowledge, no less?”

“Before... before we left Texas,” Maureen managed to squeak out, staring off into the distance near her father's face. She could not look him in the eyes. She feared his answer, and she feared the punishment she would get for asking, but she had to know. “Did I get in?”

Her mother's tears told her the answer. Her father only stared at her incredulously. Maureen tried to fight back the joy rising up in her. She finally had her chance at freedom. 

“How dare you do something like this--no, how dare you do _anything_ -–without asking my permission. But this... this is absolutely unacceptable. You know very well you can't go out into that world. It's not safe.”

“How can I know that if I've never been there?” Maureen asked. Her voice didn't sound like her own. It sounded like it belonged to someone bold and confident, not someone who was terrified of her own father.

He rose from his chair, pulling himself up to his full height. His voice fell into the same fiery cadence he used in church. “Because I've told you how the world is. You know what I preach. You know the devil lurks around every corner, and I can't protect you from him if you leave.”

“Maybe I don't need your protection,” Maureen said plainly. 

Her father looked as though he had been slapped, and her mother fell headfirst onto the table, another round of tears making her whole body shake. Maureen wanted to take back her words, but only so that she wouldn't have to watch their effect. She meant them, every one. 

She didn't _want_ her father's protection. She wanted to make her own decisions. She even wanted to make her own mistakes. She wanted it all, even if it terrified her to think of just what might lurk outside the doors of their latest home.

Simply put, Maureen wanted to be her own person. 

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. She could hear her father shouting Bible passages mixed with his own paranoid rhetoric, and she tried to tune it out. She locked her bedroom door-–he hadn't had time to remove the lock from this door yet-–and laid on her bed, staring out at the rapidly darkening sky outside her window. She could see for miles. Someday soon, she would see those miles, and more, up close. 

She was going to see the world, even if it meant turning her back on everything she had ever known.


	2. I Belong To The Hurricane

Taylor couldn't remember exactly where he was. That wasn't entirely true; he knew he was in a club, but the rest of the details-–name, location-–were more than a little fuzzy. That didn't bother him, and neither did the fact that he didn't know the name of the girl hanging all over him. She had a beer-–he'd lost count of what number either of them was on-–in one hand, and the other hand kept running up and down his chest. 

He leaned back against the couch and sighed. 

Something about this didn't seem to excite him the way it always had before, and he couldn't exactly understand why. When he was sober-– _if_ he was sober-–in the morning, he would give it some more thought. Maybe then he could puzzle out an answer to why a packed club, alcohol in his system and a beautiful woman glued to his side didn't seem to excite him.

This was just what he did, though. If this wasn't giving him solace anymore, he didn't know where to turn. He had burned a lot of bridges over the years; half the time, he figured he was lucky his family still spoke to him. The other half of the time, he knew they only spoke to him because of the music. If the band hadn't been able to weather Taylor's storm, he knew they would have all abandoned him.

Another tall, thin and absolutely wasted woman dropped onto the couch, her limbs landing all over the parts of Taylor not covered by the other girl. Her face almost sparked recognition in Taylor's mind, and he knew they had been introduced earlier that night. The two girls were friends, and they were dying to meet The Taylor Hanson. He remembered that much. He remembered his salacious thoughts about all the things he could do with two best friends who were _dying_ to meet him.

He couldn't remember much of anything else, though.

The two girls were busy giggling over something, but Taylor couldn't focus on what. He wiggled free of the first one's grasp long enough to find his own beer bottle – well, it was _probably_ his – and down the rest of it in just one gulp. It wasn't really enough to get him any more drunk, but it was all he had and he wasn't entirely sure that it was possible for him to be more drunk.

So why hadn't his brain shut down yet? Why couldn't he turn off his thoughts? That was why he did this. So he could stop thinking. All the drinking, all the partying – it was the only thing besides the music that gave him a temporary reprieve from himself.

The music... that was his anchor. He knew that. But it was so tempting to let himself be drug out to sea, to give in to all the things that let him move even further outside himself. To give in to pure pleasure and pain. He could drown himself in it, he knew. But he didn't care. He couldn't give up the music, but he could imagine a world where he was only accountable to himself. It wasn't an entirely pleasant idea, but it was a freeing one.

Someone wandered over with their hands piled full of shot glasses and Taylor grabbed one without even asking what was in it. Whatever it was, it could only get him closer to the sweet escape he was looking for. He downed it quickly, not tasting or feeling anything but the burn of it rolling down his throat. He lived for the little moments when he felt something, even if it was only physical and temporary.

One of the girls leaned in and whispered in Taylor's ear. She was the shorter of the two, and if he crossed his eyes a little, she reminded him of someone he once knew-–the last girl he let himself get close to-–really close to, and not in the way he had been _close_ to so many girls (and a few guys) since then.

He didn't like that reminder at all. Somewhere, deep inside of him, he could almost feel some emotion stirring. Taylor hadn't let himself feel anything like that for a long time, and he wasn't about to start again. He uncrossed his eyes and tried to focus on what she had said, but he hadn't heard a word of it. Too lost in his own mind again. 

She didn't need to spell it out again, though. She pulled a tiny plastic bag from some hidden pocket somewhere and pressed it into Taylor's hand. He knew he'd have to pay for it one way or another-–and the gleam in her eyes hinted at just what sort of payment she wanted-–but he didn't care about that right then. He only cared about the oblivion waiting for him at the bottom of that bag.

He freed himself from the two girls' grasps and stumbled in a direction he hoped would lead him to a bathroom. He didn't really care about the privacy, but he could only imagine the headlines if someone happened to snap a picture of him with his face pressed to a table in the middle of the club. As much as his self destructive tendencies hinted at a desire to ruin his life, he was clinging desperately to his career. He wouldn't risk losing that. So he pointed himself toward the neon BATHROOM sign and pushed through the door. Luck seemed to be with him, and every stall was empty. He locked himself into the closest one, still clutching the little bag tight in his hand.

He finally loosened his grip and stared down at the bag. It would be just enough, he thought. Just enough. It wasn't ideal, but the back of the toilet would have to do. A little voice in the back of Taylor's mind pointed out how much of a cliché it all was-–the washed up rock star, snorting coke off the back of a toilet in some club. He was just far enough gone to laugh out loud at that thought, but he soon steadied himself with the task of drawing out the perfect line.

This was a skill Taylor had perfected over the years. Too bad it wasn't a skill he could show off in most crowds, he thought with another laugh. His own company would have to do for now.

Realizing just how alone he really was only spurred him on. Taylor dove headfirst into that perfect, thin line laid out in front of him. He didn't mind the burn or the way it made his eyes water. The momentary pain was half the craving and he lapped that up as willingly as he did the rest of it. Too soon the line was gone, making its way through his bloodstream. He leaned back against the stall and waited for it to hit him, waited for it to carry him away.

****

In the morning-–closer to the afternoon, judging by the bright sunlight streaming through the curtains-–he woke up alone in his hotel bed. The sheets still smelled a little of beer, liquor and perfume; one of the girls had been there, but she hadn't spent the night. It was easier that way, and like so few of the others, she understood that. Taylor liked it when they understood and when they kept their distance, too.

His skin was slick with sweat and his body clung to the sheets. His mind, too, wasn't ready to leave the comfort of the bed and face another day. He was coming down hard, and he knew he would need a little more to make it through the next few days. That's how it always was; he could tell himself he just needed a little here and there, but a little always lead to more. It seemed nothing was ever enough to give Taylor the peace of mind he wanted.

Sometimes he wasn't even sure what he was running from so fervently; he only knew, deep within him, that he had to keep running. If he stopped, if he backed off and actually looked at himself too closely, he didn't think he would like what he saw. Stopping wasn't an option.

Slowly, reluctantly, he pulled himself from the bed and stumbled to the bathroom. A shower wasn't really on his agenda for the day; he didn't care what he looked or smelled like for a day of traveling of tedious phone interviews. Only his brothers and their crew would see him, and they had all seen him at his worst before.

The mirror told him he was definitely at his worst that day. His hair stuck out at odd angles and the bags under his eyes hinted at the effects of bag he'd held the night before. He barely recognized the face staring back at him. This wasn't Taylor-–whoever Taylor was anymore. This was some awful caricature of a burnt out child star. This was everything Taylor didn't want to be.

Yet, it was everything he knew he deserved to be.


	3. Let Your Body Lose Control

Maureen really didn't know how she had let her roommate Summer talk her into this. The two of them had lived together for over two years and Summer knew her better than anyone else-–mostly because Maureen was still terrified to let anyone else in-–but sometimes she still managed to surprise her and completely ignore their personality differences.

It still amazed Maureen that the two of them had become friends at all. When she arrived at Northwestern, she had no idea what to expect. The outside world was supposed to be a scary place full of dangerous people, and for the first few days it certainly seemed that way to Maureen. The bus ride to Chicago had shown her more of the wide open spaces she had craved and it only left her wanting more, but once she arrived at her college dorm, she realized just how in over her head she was.

The first clue that she was out of her depth was her roommate. Summer had already moved into the room just hours before Maureen arrived, and so Maureen walked into the dorm to find a girl in tiny shorts and a low cut tank top sprawled out across a bright red bedspread. This was the kind of girl her mother and father were afraid she would become; Maureen had no doubt about that. But there was something intriguing about her. The fact that she was everything Maureen wasn't-–loud, brash and unapologetic-–appealed to her.

In spite of all their differences, somehow, the two girls had become practically inseparable. 

Summer tried to respect Maureen's boundaries. She didn't force her to go to any parties-–at least, not the really wild ones, although Maureen found all of them too wild for her tastes. She gave Maureen a sip or two of alcohol here and there, but no more. She warned Maureen about which boys to avoid; that was an area of the outside world that Maureen had absolutely no idea how to handle. The one thing she had never been able to convince Maureen to do, however, was attend a concert with her.

Until now.

“You're wearing _that_?” Summer asked, incredulously.

Maureen stared down at the sundress she wore. It was one of her most revealing pieces of clothing-–it even had little spaghetti straps and her knees felt awkwardly bare. She didn't see what was so objectionable about it from Summer's point of view, but the accusation made her feel even more naked. Without answering her roommate, she ran to their shared closet and grabbed a cardigan. 

She turned back around to find Summer still staring at her. “What? What is wrong with my outfit now?”

“Nothing _was_ wrong with it,” Summer answered. “Not until you mugged someone's grandmother for that cardigan. You actually looked really cute, Maur. Not that you aren't cute, anyway. You know what I mean. I'm just proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” Maureen repeated.

“Yeah. You almost looked... normal,” Summer replied, then frowned and shook her head. “Ugh, this is all coming out wrong. I just meant it's a really cute outfit for a concert and I might have to borrow it sometime.”

Maureen finally relaxed and shrugged back out of the cardigan. Despite the way Summer was fumbling over her words and trying not to be insulting, Maureen knew what she meant. She wouldn't admit it, but she herself was shocked that her outfit met with her roommate's approval. Despite living in Chicago for two years, she still felt like a fish out of water, especially when it came to all the little things-–like clothes and listening to modern music-–that made it so obvious that she just didn't fit into society.

“I know what you mean,” Maureen said. “So, tell me more about this concert.”

Summer patted the back of her desk chair. “Sit down and let me do something with your hair, alright? And I'll tell you all about the band.”

Maureen nodded and took a seat. “You said they were called Hanson, right?”

“Yup. I've played you their albums before. They're good, remember? I know you're not all about the religious thing anymore, but they are good Christian boys... well, kind of.”

Maureen glanced at Summer in the mirror in front of her, raising an eyebrow. “Kind of?”

“Well, Isaac and Zac are good boys. Taylor is... your typical rockstar, I guess. He's the kind of guy I'd tell you to stay away from if you met him on campus here. Not that he would be on campus here, but you know, a guy like him. Guys like that are trouble.”

Maureen never pressed Summer for details when she described guys as _trouble_. She had a good idea what that meant, and any of the details that she didn't already know, she was quite certain that she could live without knowing.

****

A few hours later, after standing in line in the sweltering late summer heat, Maureen and Summer finally made their way into the concert venue. It was, quite literally, like no place Maureen had ever been before. She had followed Summer to parties before, but never to a bar or a club. This place wasn't exactly what she had imagined when she thought of those words-–or other words, like _rock concert_. For one, the audience was mostly made up of girls her age. Some of them were dressed provocatively-–like Summer in her sparkly shirt and mini-skirt-–but others sported jeans and a wide variety of Hanson t-shirts.

As soon as they got inside, Summer took Maureen's hand and pulled her through the crowd to secure them a place at the front. Maureen noticed a few girls giving them dirty looks for that, but Summer assured her it would be okay-–no chance of a mosh pit at this concert. Maureen wasn't entirely sure was a mosh pit was, but she was definitely thankful for the lack of one.

Maureen had absolutely no frame of reference for a rock concert, aside from what she had seen on television and in movies. She had spent the past two years digesting pop culture at an alarming pace, but it overwhelmed her sometimes and there were still huge gaps in her knowledge. When the band finally took the stage, the reality of it absolutely floored her. She could actually feel the music coursing through her body, feel the energy of the band and their fans, and it was like nothing else in the world. If she had any concept of what a high was like, she would have described it as the ultimate high.

It didn't help that the lead singer, the one Summer told her was the bad boy Taylor, was right in front of her and incredibly sexy; Maureen was sheltered, not dead, after all. She could appreciate a good looking man when she saw one, and this boy in his tight white jeans and suspenders – was that fashionable these days? She would have to ask Summer about that later – was practically the dictionary definition of good looking. It made Maureen feel tingly in places she didn't know it was possible to feel tingly.

They played a variety of songs she vaguely recognized from Summer's cd collection and others that she had never heard before. The songs ranged from fast paced numbers perfect for dancing to slow, heartbreaking ballads. Maureen hung on every single word that came from Taylor's mouth. When the guitar player began to play a low, groovy tune, the audience erupted in screams and Maureen found herself joining in, although she wasn't entirely sure why.

Taylor stepped away from his keyboard for that song and picked up a tambourine. During an instrumental break in the song, he leaned into the microphone and practically purred, “Now, I need a dance partner for this one. Any volunteers?”

The shrill screams of hundreds of girls, Maureen included, pierced the air. But Taylor was only looking at her, she realized. She glanced to her left and right to be sure, but when she pulled her eyes back to him, she was certain that she was the one he wanted. Before she had time to consult with Summer, a security guard came along and helped her over the barrier. Her feet moved of their own accord and she soon found herself on the stage, standing sheepishly in front of Taylor while the band continued to playing the melody.

He leaned in close to her, away from the microphone, and asked, “May I have this dance?”

Maureen couldn't have said no if she had wanted to-–partially because the noise of the audience and the music would surely drown her out, and partially because of the way his eyes bore into her when he stared her down, his hand held out to take hers. All she could do was nod dumbly and offer her hand in return.

She didn't know how to dance, but it didn't seem to matter. Taylor took the lead expertly, twirling her around the stage like their bodies were made for those exact moves. Maureen couldn't tear her eyes from his, unless it was to look at his sly grin. She hadn't been this close to a boy since that one party, and that had ended with Summer dragging her away and threatening the boy with a variety of curse words Maureen hadn't even known.

But this was different. For one, Maureen hadn't spent the night sipping a drink that Summer assured her “barely had any alcohol at all.” She knew that, while she might have been on a high from the concert itself, all the feelings swirling around her body were her own. She wasn't going to regret this dance-–unless it got her punched by a rapid Hanson fan, which she had a feeling could happen. In that moment, though, she didn't care about anything but being right there with Taylor.

The song ended all too soon, though. Maureen found that, as sad as she was for it to be over, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. The security guard escorted her back to her spot next to Summer and she spent the rest of the concert in a haze, seeing nothing but Taylor and feeling nothing but the memory of his hands on her body and his body heat only inches away.

When the band took their bow at the end, Taylor was once again right in front of her. He stood up and smiled out at the audience, and she could have sworn he was smiling at her and her alone. Maureen would have dismissed that as completely insane, had she not been in his arms only minutes before. She could feel Summer's eyes on her, too, but she didn't turn to meet her friend's gaze.

Finally, when the sound died down and the crowd around them began to disperse, Maureen turned to look at Summer. She could see judgment written all over her face, and she offered her a shrug and a weak smile. “So... that was a good concert?”

“It would just fucking figure,” Summer said. “I tell you Taylor's the one to stay away from, and what does he do? _He_ gets close to _you_.”

“It's not like I made him choose me to dance with,” Maureen countered. “You're the one who decided we had to be in the front row. I could blame you for this. It's not like it even meant anything, though. It was just a stupid dance at a concert.”

“You're lucky that's all it was,” Summer said, then turned on her heel and walked away.

Maureen followed after her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Summer spun around and stepped in close to Maureen. With her voice low, she replied, “All I'm saying is that boy is dangerous. You don't know all the rumors I've heard, so just take my word on this. I can see how you're drooling over him, and it's pointless for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being that he's a rockstar. A douchebag rockstar.”

“I thought you were a fan?” Maureen asked.

“I was. Well, I am. But I know what everyone says Taylor's like, and he's just not worth the googly eyes you're making over him.”

Summer stormed off before Maureen could tell her that she wasn't making googly eyes. It would have been a lie, though. She was turning to mush inside, and it was all because of a rockstar she knew she could never have. From the way Summer described him, Maureen wasn't sure she wanted him, anyway-–except for that creeping feeling in her gut telling her that she most definitely did want him.


	4. All The World Is Moaning

Summer didn't speak to Maureen for the entire bus ride back to their dorm. She didn't talk to her the next morning when they both woke up and got dressed for class. Maureen couldn't even find her in the food court at lunch and ended up eating her food all alone. When she returned to their room after her last class of the afternoon, Summer was still nowhere to be found.

She didn't really understand why Summer was so upset with her. It wasn't like Maureen had chosen this. She might have enjoyed it, but she hadn't begged Taylor to dance with her. He had chosen her, and he probably wouldn't even remember her face in a few days, especially if he was everything Summer said he was.

Maureen had never seen Summer pout over something like this before. Summer had a temper. She didn't let things fester; she just exploded when she was angry. Maureen wasn't sure what she did when she was jealous, which was obviously what she felt right then. The most frustrating part, she decided, was that there was nothing she could do to make it better.

But there was definitely something she could do to make it worse.

She knew that the band was playing two concerts in the city, and Summer had bought tickets for both of them. She had kept her ticket close to her body all day, knowing that even if she didn't mend fences with Summer, she was still going to the show. She had no doubt about that. If she could help it, Taylor wouldn't forget about her face for at least one more day.

It was a horrible decision; she knew that. But she didn't care. It was time to start making some mistakes, Maureen decided.

When it seemed obvious that Summer wasn't coming back to their room any time soon, Maureen penned a quick note telling her not to worry about where she was and that she would be back later that night. She didn't know if Summer would even be back in time to read it, but she figured it didn't hurt anything to leave a note. Even if she was angry with her, she would still be worried if Maureen didn't return; she knew her roommate well enough to be sure of that.

Maureen didn't tell Summer _where_ she was going, however. She figured Summer could either figure that out for herself, or she would still be too angry to really care. Plus, she didn't want Summer chasing after her and ruining everything. It wasn't as though she had much of a plan; she really didn't know what was going to happen, aside from the concert itself, if anything. She just knew that she had to be there again. She had to see Taylor again.

She rushed to change into one of her other sundresses; it wasn't quite as revealing as the other one, but if Summer were speaking to her, she was certain she was still approve of her choice. She tried to imitate what Summer had done with hair gel and a curling iron, but the results weren't quite the same. Being pressed for time, and for skills, she decided to forgo any fancy makeup completely, only adding a little more lip gloss to what she had applied that morning.

Taking a good, long look at herself in the mirror, Maureen realized that she still looked plain. She would always look plain, no matter what she did. Plainness was just a part of her that no amount of fashionable clothes and expensive makeup could hide. Taylor would see it, if he took another look at her. Maybe he wouldn't care, Maureen let herself hope. She had to hang onto that hope; it was the only thing she had. With that one little thought, she gathered her purse, wiggled into a pair of Summer's high heeled sandals and hurried to catch a bus to the concert.

This time, she was a little later arriving at the venue. She knew there was little hope of making her way to the front row like Summer had done the night before. Instead, Maureen decided to find a spot on the balcony. She wouldn't be as close, but she would still have a wonderful view of Taylor. Maybe she needed a little distance, anyway, to keep from diving headfirst into what was probably just a stupid crush. Summer was surely right about that, if nothing else.

Despite the increased distance, Maureen felt every bit as connected to the music as she had the night before. She could feel it pulsing in her skin, pulling her into a world she hadn't known existed. Taylor might be trouble, like Summer said, but the longer Maureen watched him make love to his piano, the more she realized that she didn't care. She wanted a little trouble in her life, especially if it came in the form of Taylor Hanson.

The concert ended far too soon, leaving her suddenly feeling all alone despite the crowd all around her. When the noise began to die down, she overheard two girls next to her talking about waiting behind the venue for the band to come out and greet their fans. It was a long shot, Maureen thought, but she had to do it. She had nothing for them to sign and nothing to say to them, but she had to try. She might never again have a chance to even be that close to Taylor; she was going to hang on to every tiny glimmer of hope she could grasp.

There was a fine mist of rain falling when she finally made her way outside, but that didn't deter her one bit. It seemed to thin the rest of the crowd out quickly, though. By the time one of the other boys-–she thought Summer had called him Zac-–finally made his way out, the crowd was barely large enough to surround him. Maureen hung back, trying not to stand out from the small throng of girls clamoring for an autograph, and waited for Taylor.

After all the autographs had been given and the rest of the fans had dispersed, Maureen finally had to face facts. Taylor wasn't coming out. Her one chance to be close to him again was gone. A quick look at her cell phone told her that she had missed the last bus back to campus as well. She could try to find a cab, but given the late hour and the fact that it was a weekend, all the cabs would probably be so busy that she would be left waiting for quite some time.

She sunk down onto a bench and sighed, finally accepting that she had gotten in over her head. Summer would know what to do in this kind of situation, but she herself had no clue. Once again, Maureen was in over her head because of her stupid impulsive desire to live life.

“I hope you aren't still waiting for an autograph,” a familiar voice said with a laugh.

Maureen wasn't sure if the voice belonged to the person she thought, but she _had_ just spent the last two hours listening to him sing. Slowly, she lifted her head and found that she was correct. Taylor Hanson stood in front of her, one hand on his hip and the other one slowly bringing a cigarette to his lips. Except for the cigarette and the stance, he didn't really look that dangerous, Maureen decided.

“I was, umm... I missed my bus,” she managed to stutter out.

“Do you have another ride? Or have you called a cab?”

She shook her head.

Taylor held out his hand to her, much as he had the night before. “Well, let's get you inside out of the rain and call you one, alright?”

Maureen could, once again, do nothing but nod dumbly and take his hand. He took one last, long draw on his cigarette before stomping it into the ground. Maureen normally would have found herself gagging at the smell, but the trail of smoke from his mouth was surprisingly sweet and spicy, not like any cigarette she had smelled before.

Taylor gripped her hand gently but protectively and lead her toward the tour bus parked only feet away. He paused at the doorway. “Now, hopefully you can get a cab soon, because I'm really not supposed to just bring people in here... but I couldn't very well let you freeze to death out in the rain, could I?”

“I suppose not,” Maureen finally managed to squeak out. “Umm... thank you, I guess. You didn't have to do this.”

“What can I say? I'm a nice guy,” Taylor said, but his smirk said otherwise. He wandered over to a small refrigerator and peered inside. “Would you like a drink? We've got beer and Dr. Pepper.”

“I'll take a Dr. Pepper,” Maureen replied, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Taylor handed her a cold can. “You can have a seat, you know. The couch is pretty comfortable.”

Maureen sat down gingerly on the couch. The whole experience seemed so unreal that she was afraid that touching anything would somehow undo it all, like something out of a fairytale. She stared at Taylor in disbelief as he pulled out his phone and began searching for a cab company. He dialed several numbers while Maureen still sat there in a daze, seeing him but hardly hearing a word he said.

After several minutes, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and looked down at Maureen with a smile. “Alright, I finally got you a cab. It's going to be at least a thirty minute wait, though. Busy weekend, I guess. Why don't we go in the back lounge and wait?”

A part of Maureen wanted to object. Something in the way Taylor looked at her reminded her of all the guys Summer told her to be wary of, but she didn't care. She only wanted to be nearer to him; besides, he had already been so kind to her. Maybe he wasn't any of the things Summer said after all. 

She stood and followed him through the bus. She was surprised to find it was still empty, except for the two of them. As if he anticipated her confusion, Taylor turned his head and said, “Everyone else is still inside loading out, or hanging out on the other bus. Not sure how we got so lucky, but it looks like we're all alone here.”

He ushered her into the back lounge, which was surprisingly homey, full of couches and a large television screen. Like the rest of the bus, it was empty and quiet. The sound of Taylor shutting and locking the door was the only thing to pierce the silence. Again, that nervous feeling began to bubble up in Maureen's stomach, but she wasn't sure what to do with it so she shoved it back down and ignored it as best she could. She sat down on one of the couches and waited for Taylor to make his next move.

He rushed to her side, sliding easily into the space next to her on the couch. Their bodies were almost close enough to touch and it made Maureen blush. Taylor cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. “Hey, you're the girl I danced with last night, aren't you?”

“In the flesh,” Maureen said, instantly regretting her word choice. Her blush deepened.

“Are you nervous?” Taylor asked, his hand darting out to touch her leg reassuringly. At least, she imagined the gesture would reassure anyone else. It only made her more nervous.

She nodded, finding herself again unable to speak as she watched Taylor, almost imperceptibly, lean in closer to her. He pushed back one of her unruly curls and flashed her a wicked smile. 

“There's no need to be nervous,” he whispered, his lips so close to hers that she could feel his breath, feel each syllable he said.

Maureen knew what came next. She had been that far, at least, if not much farther before Summer intervened. She closed her eyes and waited, and only seconds later was rewarded with the feeling of Taylor's lips against hers. He tasted like he smelled-–smoky, but sweet and spicy at the same time. It was the best taste in the world, Maureen decided, and she didn't resist at all when he probed deeper into her mouth.

She wanted to savor every single moment and every single sensation, but it was all moving too taste. She was so focused on the feel of Taylor's mouth that she hardly noticed how he shifted their bodies around so that she was lying underneath him. His hands gripped her hips tightly, holding their bodies together. Butterflies took flight in her stomach and she didn't know whether that was a reaction or a warning. It all seemed too unreal, and she was tempted to hold her breath for someone to walk in and shatter it.

But Taylor had locked the door, she remembered. He had planned this. He didn't even know her name, yet his hand was inching its way up her thigh. She suddenly regretted wearing a dress. Before Taylor's hand could find what it was looking for, she pulled back from his kiss and shoved his chest. He tried to protest, but she wriggled away from him before he could tighten his grip on her.

“I really should go,” she said, pulling her legs free and planting them firmly on the ground. “I'm sure my cab is here by now. I really have to go.”

“You can get another cab...” Taylor said, grabbing Maureen's arm forcefully.

She yanked her arm back and stood up. “I'm not going to risk it. I'm leaving.”

Maureen grabbed her purse from the floor and hurried out of the room before Taylor could say another word. She scurried out of the bus, thankful that it still appeared to be empty. A few people were milling around outside, but none of them seemed to take notice of her. She saw a cab pulling up to the sidewalk just a few yards away and practically broke into a sprint to reach it.

As she sunk into the backseat of the cab, she realized that Summer had been right about Taylor.


	5. Off the Hook

It was late when Maureen finally made it back to her dorm room, and she was completely exhausted, physically and emotionally. She had no idea what to expect when she opened the door; whether Summer would be waiting up for her, whether she would be asleep or whether she would even be there at all. She found the door unlocked, so she knew immediately that Summer was there, but she feared the worst as she slowly pushed the door open.

Maureen stepped into the room and found that Summer was sitting at her desk, staring at her laptop screen intently. Only one small desk light illuminated the room, and Summer looked almost as exhausted as she herself felt. Maureen realized both of them had been through a lot that day.

“Finally,” Summer said plainly, not even trying to hide the yawn that punctuated the sentence.

She could hear the irritation in Summer's voice, and decided it was probably best not to talk to her. It would only make things worse, especially if Summer pressed her into admitting what had really happened. The last thing Maureen wanted right then was more of her best friend's cruel judgment, whether it was deserved or not.

Naturally, Summer had no plans to leave her alone. “Did you at least enjoy the concert?”

Maureen sighed and turned back around to look at Summer. “You knew that's where I went?”

“Of course,” Summer said, rolling her eyes. “Where else would you have gone? I went there too, but I couldn't find you in the crowd.”

“I was up on the balcony...” Maureen admitted, slipping out of Summer's sandals and handing them to her. “And I borrowed these. Sorry.”

“Don't apologize for the shoes. That's really not a big deal right now.”

The words were pointed and a little cruel, but they didn't have as much bite as Maureen expected. Maybe Summer wasn't all that mad anymore. She looked more defeated and tired than anything else. Maureen didn't know how to deal with that. She sighed and sunk down into her own desk chair, tossing her purse into the floor. “Well, I'm sorry for everything else. I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't make him pick me and I didn't make myself go all stupid over him; those things just happened. But I am sorry for being so... whatever I've been.”

“Apology accepted,” Summer said. “And I'm sorry for being so whatever I've been, too. And for not trying harder to find you at the concert. I tried to call you, but I couldn't get through. Service can be pretty spotty around there. I was still pretty mad until I got back here, and then I realized I was being an idiot for just leaving you out on your own.”

“You're not the only idiot here,” Maureen mumbled.

Summer raised an eyebrow. “You're just a girl with a silly crush. No big deal. At least, it's not the big deal I made it out to be. That kind of crush happens to all of us; I've been there more times than I'd care to admit. Which is why I know what I'm talking about when I try to warn you. Just listen to me when I tell you a guy is trouble, alright?”

“Trust me, from now on I will.”

Maureen hoped that was enough to make Summer drop the subject, but the way Summer squinted her eyes and stared at her said otherwise. She had stuck her big foot in her mouth and made her roommate curious, maybe even worried. She would have to tell her the truth. Maureen could only hope that wouldn't infuriate Summer all over again. 

“What's wrong, Maur? Didn't you have a good time at the show? You were gone a long time...”

Maureen sighed. “I had a good time at the show. The part after wasn't as much fun.”

“Did some girls try to talk you into waiting by the buses?” Summer asked. “There's always a ton of drama that goes along with that. Some of those girls can be awful. That's why I stay away from them and the buses.”

“No... I talked myself into it when I heard some girls mention it. I didn't even get any autographs and I stayed so long I missed the last bus back to campus.” Maureen stopped there, hoping that would be enough to satisfy Summer's curiosity.

Summer stared her down. “That's not all, is it? You should have called me, anyway. You know I would have come back for you.”

“I didn't know that,” Maureen replied. She was more the ready for this conversation so to be over, so she turned her back to Summer and began changing into her pajamas. Even if it was the weekend, it was still very late and she wanted the day to end.

Summer wouldn't give up that easily, of course. She crept up behind Maureen. “Of course I would have come back for you. Even if I was still mad at you, if I had known you needed my help, I would have been there for you.”

“I definitely needed your help,” Maureen replied, her voice barely above a weak whisper.

“What happened?”

Maureen turned to face Summer. “I met Taylor... he found me sulking outside after I realized I had missed the bus.”

“I thought you said you didn't meet any of them?”

Maureen shook her head. “I said I didn't get an autograph. I didn't have anything for them to sign, and Taylor didn't come off the bus then, so I sort of hung back and waited. But he didn't show up. He waited until the crowd was gone to come out for a smoke, I guess.”

“And he found you.”

“Oh, he found me. That's for sure,” Maureen replied, and she practically spat the words out. It left a bad taste in her mouth to think of how Taylor had treated her. 

Summer placed her hands on Maureen's shoulders; not forceful, just enough to gently hold her in place and reassure her. “What did he do, sweetie?”

“Nothing much. Probably not enough for the way I'm reacting,” Maureen replied. “He was just... what you said he would be. I'm sorry I doubted you.”

“I'm going to need more details before I say 'I told you so'.”

Maureen glanced down, not ready to make eye contact with Summer again, especially not while she told her about Taylor. “He was really sweet at first. He helped me call a cab and let me sit in the bus because it was starting to rain. It seemed innocent enough, but you know I'm too trusting sometimes.”

“You can't help that, though. You just have to learn.”

She nodded, but only slightly. She still couldn't look Summer in the eyes. “Well, he wanted to go in the back of the bus. I started to get a bad feeling but... I went anyway. I couldn't help it. He locked the door and practically pounced on me. It was so... sleazy. I made him stop before anything really bad happened, but...”

“It was still sleazy. But he's the sleazy one, not you. You don't need to beat yourself up over this, okay?”

Summer pulled Maureen into a tight hug and Maureen felt herself relax for the first time since she left Taylor. She couldn't believe how easily her roommate had forgiven her, but she was grateful for it. She never wanted to make her own mistakes again; she realized she was better off letting Summer guide her and keep her out of the clutches of men like Taylor.

Summer finally pulled back and gave Maureen a small smile. “You know what, though? If I were you, I would have done the same thing. Although I don't know if I could have talked myself into leaving when you did. And that's why I'm not judging you at all for what happened.”

Maureen laughed out loud. Summer looked offended at first, but she seemed to realize what the laugh was – pure exhaustion and relief. Soon, the two of them were laughing together, and Maureen didn't even mind that Summer pressed her for more details about the way it felt to kiss Taylor. 

Despite what he had done, how he had lured her in so sweetly and treated her like a piece of meat, Maureen couldn't shake the tingles she got when she thought about him. She thought his taste, his smell and the feel of his lips would be burned onto her forever, and she didn't really mind. He might have been the worst kind of man ever, but he was good at it. It made Maureen ache inside and left her with an empty longing like she had never felt before.

She didn't tell Summer about that.

With their little argument over, the two girls fell into bed, each of them more than ready for sleep. But Maureen couldn't sleep. She could only toss and turn, seeing Taylor's face in her mind constantly. He made her stomach turn just as much as he made her heart flutter, and she wanted rid of every memory of him. The memories seemed to want nothing more than to taunt her the entire night. The light of dawn was beginning to stream in through the blinds by the time Maureen finally found some rest, although her dreams were still filled with thoughts of him.

She awoke to the sounds of Summer rustling around the room. Maureen figured it must be time for lunch, since Summer made a habit of never leaving bed any earlier than noon on the weekend. Out of habit, she reached for her cell phone, which she always rested on the bedpost. Her hand came back empty.

“Summer, where's my cell phone?”

Summer glanced back and shrugged. “Did you forget to put it there last night? It was late and you were like the walking dead by the time you got back here.”

Maureen frowned. That didn't seem like her, but she couldn't remember. Her purse still lay next to her desk where she had tossed it when she came back to the dorm. She quickly jumped out of bed and seized it from the floor. Her phone simply had to be lurking inside of it.

She turned up fistfuls of money, her wallet and a pair of sunglasses. But no cell phone. She opened her mouth to speak, but her voice was drowned out by Summer's ringtone. 

“Speaking of cell phones...” Summer said, reaching for her phone where it lay on her desk. “That's odd. I don't know this number. Hello?”

Maureen continued frantically searching the floor, even crawling under her bed in case her phone had somehow fallen out of her purse and rolled around the room. Still, she could not find it.

“Umm, Maureen. It's for you,” Summer said breathlessly.

Maureen wiggled out from under her bed and glanced up at Summer. She looked like she had seen a ghost. Maureen felt her stomach turn. “Who is it?”

“It's Taylor Hanson.”


	6. In This Gutter Of A World, I See Light

Maureen gulped and stared at Summer, frozen in place by his name. How could he have gotten Summer's phone number? It didn't make sense at all. And why would he call her, when he had never even met her? In an instant, all the puzzle pieces snapped into place and Maureen realized she must have dropped her phone on the bus with Taylor, probably when she was rushing to leave him.

She reached out a shaky hand to Summer and slowly brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“This is really strange, I know, but... you're Maureen, right? The girl who I talked to after the concert last night... I helped you find a cab...”

“Umm... yeah. That's me. How did you...” she stuttered out, still confused.

“You dropped your phone on the bus, and it looked like this was the only number you called... I didn't want to use your minutes or anything, so I called it back from my number, in the hopes that whoever answered might be able to direct me to you. Oh, and your phone displays your name when it boots up. That was handy.”

“You really could have just tossed the phone... it's not that important,” Maureen replied. She didn't like attracting this much of his attention or taking up so much of his time. She should have been nothing to him.

Taylor laughed. “Are you kidding? I don't know about you, but my phone is like an extension of my body. I'd be freaking out if I lost it for even five minutes. We're still in Chicago today, so it's really no problem at all to get the phone back to you...”

“No!” Maureen cried out, ignoring Summer's incredulous look. “I mean, it's really just some cheap prepaid phone, easy to replace, and I'm sure you've got plenty of stuff to do today. No need to take time out for me.”

Taylor's voice dropped into the same seductive tone he had used on her the previous night. “I would be happy to take time out of my day to get your phone back to you. Besides, I feel like I need to apologize... we didn't really get off on the right foot last night.”

 _That's an understatement_ , Maureen thought, but did not say it out loud. She wasn't sure what Summer was mouthing at her, but by the look on her face, she could tell it was encouragement to go along with Taylor's plan. “I suppose you can bring the phone to me on campus...”

“Will you talk to me, at least? It doesn't need to be anything than more than just meeting me for coffee. After the way we met, the least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee. You can take your coffee and leave if you decide I'm not worth your time.”

Maureen knew she should say no; she truly did. But this Taylor sounded like a different man, although she could tell he was still accustomed to being just charming enough to get his way. She hated to give in, and suspected she might be the first woman ever to refuse him. If she was completely truthful, she did want to see him again. It went against all her better judgment, but she reasoned that if she found him horribly objectionable, she could leave. If she left him twice, maybe he would get the hint. She could only hope so.

“Okay. Starbucks on Campus Drive at two? You bring my phone and maybe we'll talk.”

“I'll take it,” Taylor said, sounding far more optimistic than Maureen thought he ought to, and far more optimistic than she herself felt. “See you then. Bye, Maureen.”

She ended the call without saying goodbye and handed the phone back to Summer, who was still staring at her slack-jawed and wide-eyed. Maureen felt herself beginning to blush, heat rising up from her chest and covering her body in awful red blotches. “Umm... so guess where I left my phone?”

“I think I get the picture. And you're meeting him to get it back?”

Maureen nodded. “Go ahead, tell me how bad of an idea it is.”

“It's a _practical_ idea, for one. You need your phone,” Summer pointed out. Then she bit her lip and tilted her head in thought. “But you're meeting him in public, right? He's not going to try anything with people around. He's a sleaze, but he's not going to risk getting a hot coffee dumped in his lap. However, if he does try something, I strongly suggest a latte to the balls. I'm just saying.”

Maureen blushed further at Summer's crude language, but couldn't resist laughing. “Okay, okay. You're right. It'll be okay, and if it's not, I can at least be in control of the situation this time, right?”

“Do you want me to tag along just in case?”

“No, I don't need a babysitter,” Maureen said, her voice harsher than she intended. “I'm sorry. You know, I just... even if I keep making mistakes, I need to do things for myself. I'm twenty one years old, you know. I've gotta grow up.”

“You said it; not me,” Summer replied, but her tone and expression both implied that she agreed.

****

A little more than an hour later, Maureen found herself walking toward the coffee shop where she had agreed to meet Taylor. She shivered even though it wasn't cold outside, and she knew it was only her fear catching up with her. It wasn't so much that she was afraid of Taylor; he wasn't _that_ kind of dangerous, she didn't suppose. She was more afraid of her inability to resist him. But she could handle this. All she had to do was retrieve her cell phone and bid him goodbye, and she would never need to see or speak to him again. He would be gone from her life that easily.

Deep in the back of her mind, in a place she tried not to acknowledge, she knew that she didn't want him gone that easily.

She stepped into the coffee shop just before two o'clock and scanned the room for Taylor's newly familiar face. She didn't see him anywhere and for a moment she dared to think that perhaps he wasn't going to show up, but she figured it was more likely that he was running late. Maureen decided that she might as well get a coffee to drink while she waited; worst case scenario, she could use it to take Summer's advice.

The line moved so slowly that Maureen felt as though she might wait forever for her caramel latte, but finally it was in her hands, its warmth helping to steady them. She turned from the counter and saw that a seat near the window was open; it was close to the door, so she could both see Taylor arrive and make a hasty getaway. _Perfect_ , she thought, and hurried to the table before someone else claimed it.

A few more minutes passed before she saw a familiar body pass by the window, still recognizable even with his dark sunglasses and hat covering his trademark wild blonde hair. He shot Maureen a smile as he walked through the door, not even bothering to take of his sunglasses, but she thought she could still see the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He hurried to the counter and ordered his own drink and Maureen took that time to compose herself as well as she could, which she had to admit wasn't much at all.

Taylor's shadow descended on the table sooner than she expected, and she tried to shrink away from it. There was no avoiding him, though. He threw himself into the seat across from her as though he owned the place and was perfectly happy knowing that half the customers were staring at him. He was just that magnetic, and Maureen couldn't look away either.

“Hey there,” he said, finally sliding his sunglasses off and clipping them onto his shirt. Maureen tried not to stare at the little bit of skin now exposed by the weight of his glasses pulling his shirt down. “Sorry I'm running a bit late, we had this radio thing after I called you. It was supposed to be quick, but you never know with that kind of thing... I'm sorry, I'm rambling and we haven't even been properly introduced.”

Maureen bit back a laugh at that. She thought the time for introductions was well and truly over, but she figured this would go more smoothly if she humored him a little bit. “Well, as you already know, my name is Maureen...”

“And I'm Taylor, but I suppose you already know that.”

“I was vaguely aware,” Maureen replied, surprised by the flirty tone of voice she had slipped into. It just seemed so easy, so simple, to give in to him. But she had to resist.

“Well, Maureen, I am terribly sorry that we didn't get properly acquainted last night,” Taylor said, causing Maureen to blush again. He laughed. “No, no. I didn't mean _that_. I should have asked your name, at least.”

“At least,” Maureen repeated.

Taylor stared into his drink for a moment, seemingly considering his next move. Finally, he glanced back up at Maureen, his patented grin gone and replaced with a more sincere expression. “I am sorry, you know. I shouldn't assume that all women in the world want me. So if you can forgive me for making that assumption about you, then you can have your phone back and I'll let you leave.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Maureen asked, raising an eyebrow. “Holding my cell phone hostage until I accept your apology?”

“Something like that,” Taylor admitted, his grin briefly turning wicked again. “I'll give you your phone regardless, but I do want to know that we're okay.”

“Why does it matter? I'm just some girl you're never going to see again. There are hundreds more like me, and probably thousands who _wouldn't_ say no.”

Taylor smiled. “Maybe I like the fact that you said no. Monotony is... well, monotonous. So I can't help being fascinated by you.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “How many girls have you used that line on?”

“How many girls do you think I've had reason to?” Taylor asked, then laughed at his own absurdity. “I mean... well, I can't make that not sound cocky. How many times do you think I get turned down? And I can promise you that out of those few times, even fewer times have I actually... _cared_ enough to think about – wonder about – the girl afterward. So just humor me, here. It's not a line.”

Maureen was tempted to roll her eyes again, but something about him seemed sincere. He had begun to trip over his words and appeared to be putting some actual thought into what he was saying. She wanted to believe that he was trying to be genuine with her, though she could think of no reason why she deserved it. “Okay. Fine. I believe you, and I accept your apology. Can we stop with the blackmail now?”

“I suppose so,” he replied, withdrawing her phone from his pocket and tapping it against the table. “One thing, though. I'm going to put my number in here. If you don't object horribly to that, call it so that I have your number, too. If you never call me again, and never answer when I call you, I'll take the hint. But I'd like to get to know this girl who seems so impervious to my charms. Give me that chance?”

Maureen stared at him intently, considering the proposition. It was fairly harmless, she decided. She could ignore him or even block the number if she came to regret the decision to let him call her. Maybe he wouldn't even call at all. If he did, though... it almost seemed like the perfect relationship. She needn't worry about the physical aspect that scared her so much. It would just be their voices and words. She could handle that. 

“Okay. You've got a deal.”


	7. Life Could Be Simple

Maureen fell back into her usual routine with such ease that it almost surprised her. She felt that somehow, Taylor had turned her entire world upside down with his brief appearance in it, but her life went on exactly the same as it had before she had even known he existed. In a way, she was disappointed. She wanted to feel different, changed by what had transpired between them, as fleeting and likely meaningless as it had been.

Yet, her life went on, as boring as it ever was.

She went to class as always, studied as always and hung out with Summer as always. Nothing had changed, except for the way Summer looked at her with amusement and – Maureen didn't think she was imagining it – a little bit of jealousy. She hadn't asked any more questions about Taylor, and Maureen was grateful for that, because she had no clue how she might answer any questions Summer might throw at her.

It was hard not to count down the days, even the hours and minutes, since she had walked out of the coffee shop and parted ways with Taylor. She had considered looking up his tour schedule, just to see where he was, but that felt a little too pathetic even for such a hopeless crush as her own. Yet, she reminded herself that it might not be entirely useless; after all, he _had_ asked for her phone number, even though he had yet to call.

The following weekend, an entire week without Taylor, found Maureen alone in her room, trying to distract herself with mindless television shows. Summer was rifling through her closet, trying to find just the right outfit for a “back to school” party she was planning to be fashionably late for.

“Are you sure you don't want to come with me?” Summer asked from within her closet. “It could be fun...”

Maureen sighed. “I'm really not in the mood for a party.”

Summer spun around and peeked her head out. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. You probably don't want to be around any of those kind of guys right now, do you? Forget I asked. In fact, do you want me to stay here? We can pop some popcorn and watch movies...”

Maureen shook her head. “No, go on. You'll have fun. I'll just stay here. You know I'll be happier staying in, and you'll be happier going out.”

“Yeah, I know,” Summer said, walking over and offering Maureen a quick hug. “Call me if you need me to come back, alright?”

“Alright,” Maureen replied. “You just go have fun, okay? I'll have fun here by myself.”

In minutes, Summer had chosen an outfit and left for the party, leaving Maureen by herself. As much as she loved her roommate, Maureen was perfectly content to spend time alone. The only problem was that her every thought, especially when alone, seemed to be taken up by Taylor. It didn't help that nothing on television seemed to hold her attention at all. She groaned as she continued to flip through the channels, finding nothing interesting enough to remove Taylor's face from her mind.

From beside her on the bed, her phone began to buzz, alerting her to a new text. She raised an eyebrow at it, not believing that Summer could be that persistent in wanting her to come to the party. She picked up her phone to read the text, fearing that if Summer kept asking, she would have to give in. The text, however, was from an entirely different person.

_Finally have a night off. Can I call u? – T_

She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face when his name and words appeared on the screen. Maureen had held out hope that he would call her, and it had paid off. She held her phone tightly, aware that her hands were shaking, and typed her reply.

_Of course you can call me :)_

Maureen sent the text and sat her phone on the bed. She didn't know how long it would take him to get her reply and call, but she knew that her heart would continue to pound and her hands shake until he did. A large part of her was tempted to get up and dance around the room in the way she imagined she might have as a teenager, if any boys had ever shown interest in her back then. She had missed the phase of her life, though, and she felt ridiculous for experiencing now that she was, for all intents and purposes, an adult.

Only a few seconds passed before her phone began to ring, and even knowing that the call was coming did not keep her from jumping a little when it did. She took a second to steady her breathing, though she knew it was useless, then answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is this Maureen?” Taylor asked.

She had to roll her eyes at how obviously polite he was being. She knew he was only trying to make up for their first meeting. “Of course it is. I don't usually make a habit of leaving my phone where just anyone can answer it...”

“Well, you never know. Some people lose their phones all the time, and you've set a bit of a precedent there.”

Maureen laughed. “I don't usually follow strange men onto tour buses either, but I suppose you're going to claim I have a habit of doing that, too.”

“I absolutely would not,” Taylor replied. “Who said I was strange, anyway?”

“You're the first rockstar I've ever met, so I think that definitely qualifies you as strange. And I know nothing about you. You could secretly be a serial killer or a... a... I don't know! The world's a scary place, though.”

“That it is,” Taylor said. “And I may have a few skeletons in my closet, but I assure you they are only metaphorical. I am not a serial killer. I'll concede that I am a little strange, though.”

“I'm sure I seem strange to you, too,” Maureen said, surprised by how candid she felt she could be with him, this boy she neither knew nor trusted.

“I am a rockstar, as you said, so I suppose any... normal person... does seem a little strange to me. But you seem like just that-–a normal college girl. Nothing wrong with that.”

Maureen fought the urge to laugh. She had never been described as normal before. “You have no idea how far from the truth that is.”

“I suppose I don't, unless you want to tell me.”

“Well... I grew up a bit sheltered,” Maureen replied, using her standard line to describe her past without really describing it. “My dad was... a preacher. So I had a very religious upbringing. I wasn't homeschooled, but... it was still very sheltered.”

“Then we have a few things in common, if you can believe that,” Taylor said. “I _was_ homeschooled, even before the music thing, and my family is very religious.”

“I'm not sure we really have that much in common, but I'll let you believe that if you want.” Maureen felt herself blushing, even though no one was there to see it, at how easily she was able to flirt with Taylor. She couldn't be certain if he was flirting back, or if he just defaulted to that easy sort of charm.

“As for being normal, it's highly overrated. And any girl who follows a strange man onto a tour bus, then turns him down... well, she can't be all that normal, can she?” Taylor asked.

He wasn't accusing her; he was trying to turn it all into a joke. Maureen wanted to be angry, but she found that she couldn't. His voice was too soothing and he seemed so different from what she had been lead to expect, what she had even seen for herself, that she wanted to believe _this_ was the real Taylor. She wanted to trust him and open up to him.

“I suppose I'm not normal, then,” she replied. “I'm just... not that kind of girl. I guess I didn't realize your intentions, and I got into a situation that I really didn't know how to handle.”

“And I truly am sorry for that,” Taylor said. “Truly. I did want to help you. You looked so lost. But I suppose I let my libido take over, as it likes to do...”

Maureen's blush deepened. “Oh my...”

“I'm sorry, that was a bit crude. I just wasn't thinking, let's leave it at that. Now, tell me a little bit more about yourself. You're obviously in college.”

She couldn't believe that he truly did want to know more about her, and she still didn't know how much to reveal, but she couldn't stop herself from talking to him. It just seemed to easy. “Yeah, I am. I'm studying art, actually. I have no clue what I'll do with a degree in art, other than be incredibly poor, but that's nothing new for me. Like I said... I had a pretty unique childhood. But I'm trying to put all that behind me.”

“Unique? You keep saying that, but it doesn't seem that strange,” Taylor replied. “What was so unique about it? And I think studying art sounds fantastic. That's what I think I would have done if I had gone to college.”

“It was just very strange and very sheltered. I mean, I hadn't even heard of your band until my roommate asked me to go to the concert with her. I really didn't get to know anything about the outside world until I came to college.” She bit her lip, wondering if she had said too much.

Taylor laughed. “Well, there's nothing wrong with not knowing about my band, although I'm glad that you seemed to enjoy what you've seen of us now. We were pretty sheltered growing up, too. It's not necessarily a bad thing.”

“But now you're a big rockstar.”

Taylor laughed harder. “I suppose I am. I don't know... it's weird to describe myself that way, but I can see how you would think I am. I just feel like Taylor, though. Not necessarily a regular guy, but just myself.”

“It's got to be a different kind of life, though... traveling, playing concerts...” Maureen trailed off, finding that she couldn't even conceive of his life enough to describe it. It was completely foreign to her.

“It definitely is,” Taylor said, his laughter fading and his voice taking on a weary tone. “It gets old, honestly. Takes a lot out of you. But I wouldn't give it up, mostly because I don't know how to do anything else. This is me, for better or worse.”

Maureen felt there was plenty he was leaving unsaid, but she didn't know how to probe for it, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to. A part of her was still terrified by Taylor and the world he came from, even if he claimed it wasn't so different from her world. He had no clue of the danger he represented for her.

“I guess everyone has their own problems...” Maureen said, trying to keep her tone light. “We all think the grass is greener on the other side, you know?”

“Definitely,” Taylor replied. “It might be fun to just be a regular guy, just a college student or something.”

“I guess it would be...” Maureen trailed off. “But touring and playing concerts? That has to be fun, too.”

“It is, for sure. Making music is my life, it's just all the other stuff that comes along with it... hell, I'm not even sure what city I'm in right now. Cleveland? Maybe...”

Maureen laughed. “Must be tiring.”

“Definitely. In fact, I could seriously use some sleep right now. Gotta take advantage of these nights off, as few and far between as they are. It's been fun talking to you, though. I'm glad you let me call.”

“I'm glad I did, too,” Maureen replied. “Maybe you're not so bad. But you're definitely strange.”

“I'll accept that,” Taylor replied with a laugh. “I'll text you or give you another call when I get a chance, if that's alright. It's nice to talk to someone so outside of this world I'm in...”

“I think I'd like that,” Maureen replied. “Sleep well.”

“I'll try my best. Goodnight, Maureen.”

“Goodnight.”

Maureen hung up the phone, but found herself staring at it even though she knew Taylor was gone, at least for the time being. She couldn't believe that even after their brief conversation he still found her interesting enough to want to call her again. Maybe he truly did want to get to know her. She supposed he was from a completely different world, but she couldn't imagine that her boring little world could interest him. She wasn't going to complain, though. After just one conversation, she feared she was truly falling for him, in spite of all the reasons she had to avoid him.


	8. Not Perfect But I Can Smile

Taylor felt different. He wished he could think of a more eloquent way to describe it, but what it all boiled down to was that he just felt _different_ since he had met Maureen. It was an immediate thing, a shift in his world from the moment that he locked eyes with her and took her hand in his to dance her across the stage. In the days that followed, when he tried to understand why she had turned him down, he had only seemed to drift further away from the man he was before.

It had been years since he had felt like any one person might actually change him, and while he didn't like that it felt so similar to _her_ , he knew he was powerless to stop it.

They had only spoken once on the phone; it had taken Taylor nearly a week to work up the courage and find the free time to call her. Now he wanted to hear her voice every day. Another two days passed before he sent her another text, asking if he could call. It was early in the afternoon so he worried that she would be in class, but he didn't want to wait until the concert and risk her being asleep.

Luckily, she answered his text in only minutes and gave him the okay to call.

The phone rang a few times before finally Maureen's voice came on the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, it's me... Taylor,” he said, finally relaxing enough to lean back against the bus couch.

“Oh, yeah, hey,” Maureen replied. “You're lucky you texted today. I actually have the afternoon off work for once.”

“Lucky me. Where do you work?”

“On campus,” she said. “I just file papers and stuff for one of the professors. Boring stuff, but I need the money.”

“Right, that whole starving artist thing,” Taylor replied with a chuckle.

“That and I didn't exactly come here with a lot of money. I mean, I just...” Maureen said, trailing off awkwardly.

Taylor wasn't quite sure what to make of that, so he decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Well, I'm sure you're a great artist and you'll do great after you graduate. How much longer do you have?”

“Two years, minus a few weeks. This is my junior year.”

“So... you're how old?” Taylor asked. “Sorry, I know I'm asking a lot of questions. Just trying to get to know you.”

“I turned twenty one in June,” she replied. “And it's fine. I'd be asking you the same, but I really just need to google you to get those sort of answers, don't I?”

Taylor laughed. “I suppose so. And have you googled me? Because I'll warn you, there are some vicious rumors floating around out there.”

“I have, but I only looked at your own website. That's a safe source, I assume,” Maureen replied, a hint of a giggle punctuating her reply.

“I can't make any guarantees about what my own brothers post, but I suppose so. Did you learn anything interesting?”

“Oh, a few things,” Maureen replied still giggling a little.

“Like what?”

Taylor couldn't help being nervous about her reply. He knew that if she did much more digging into his life, she would find a few things that she probably wouldn't like. Maureen had admitted to being sheltered, and while Taylor didn't know just _how_ sheltered she meant, he could only assume that certain aspects of his life would probably shock and surprise her. He couldn't forbid her from looking into that stuff, but he did at least hope that he could prove himself to her before she formed an opinion based on rumor.

Why did he even care so much what this girl thought about him? Taylor couldn't explain or understand it, but for some reason, her opinion meant the world to him. She was so different from the girls he usually associated with and that just fascinated him. It also meant, he feared, that she wouldn't tolerate his bullshit the way those girls did.

“Oh, not much,” Maureen replied. “I listened to a few more of your songs, though. Watched a few videos. Learned a lot about your charity, which I think is really awesome. Also, I think your brother may be insane.”

“Zac? Yeah, I've been telling him that for years,” Taylor replied with a laugh. “I'm glad you liked what you saw, though.”

“Why? I mean, why does my opinion matter so much to you?”

It was the question Taylor had struggled to answer for himself. He wasn't sure that he would be able to put the only answer he had into words that Maureen would really understand. 

“I suppose you're just... different. In a good way. And that fascinates me. I told you, you're not like the girls I usually chase after. And the fact that you're not makes me want to get to know you more. To understand you.”

“In the hopes of what? Winning me over?” Maureen asked.

“No,” Taylor replied. “In the hopes of understanding you. That's it. I honestly don't have any ulterior motives here. At least, none that I think you would object to.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Would you object to being friends with me?” Taylor asked.

“No, I suppose I wouldn't. Is that really what you want?”

“Of course,” Taylor replied. “I promise you I don't want any more than that if you don't. But I most definitely _do_ want to be your friend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because you're _you_. You're rich and famous and from a totally different world than I'm from. I know it sounds like we have some things in common, but I just don't know if it's enough, and I don't know what you could possibly see in me.”

“And yet I do see something in you,” Taylor shot back. “Maybe the fact that you are so different. I don't think that not being famous or whatever makes you any less interesting. It's not a contest. We're just different. And I like different. I've been part of this... celebrity thing... for so long. I'm ready for a change.”

Maureen laughed softly. “Yeah, I'm sure you're ready to give up your glamorous life for... oh, I don't know, a boring life as a college student?”

“I didn't say that. I'm just tired of... the sort of people that cling to me. All these fake people. All this negativity.”

It was the truth. Taylor knew he needed to change. He knew that the people who wanted to be near him, wanted _him_ , weren't truly good for him. He knew he was spiraling down, but Maureen gave him the tiniest bit of hope that he didn't have to be that way. She wasn't like that, and despite how he had treated her, she hadn't totally run away and refused to associate with him. It gave him hope.

“I suppose I can understand wanting a change. It's how I ended up here in Chicago.”

“I didn't think you sounded like you were from Chicago,” Taylor replied.

“I'm not,” she said. “I grew up... well, everywhere, but mostly Texas, Arkansas, Oklahoma...”

“I'm from Oklahoma,” Taylor cut in. 

“I think I did read that somewhere. We didn't really, umm, live there for very long. We moved around a lot.”

Taylor felt like Maureen was hiding something from him, but he didn't know how to address it. What about her childhood could warrant being so cagey? He didn't know, but he hoped that she would figure out how to tell him eventually. It seemed like she did _want_ to talk about it, despite her efforts not to.

“Sounds like it,” Taylor replied. “Do you like traveling, then? I'm pretty lucky, I guess, that I enjoy it so much, since I spend more time on the road than at home.”

“I'm not a big fan. It wasn't really traveling, and it wasn't like I had a choice. We just... moved. Often. I don't even really have a home now, aside from the dorms.”

That sounded strange, Taylor thought. “You don't? What about during the summer or Christmas break? You don't go home?”

“No... umm, I stay with my roommate sometimes. Or one of my art professors. She travels a lot during the summer and she lets me housesit. I don't really... like to go home.”

It still seemed like she was hiding something, and as curious as Taylor was, he could tell that Maureen wasn't truly ready to open up. It had been so long since he had really cared about someone that he didn't even know how to begin to talk to her about whatever her secret was. 

“Anyway, umm, I guess Chicago is my home now. It definitely feels more like home than any other place has.”

“I like Chicago,” Taylor added, not knowing what else to say. “We lived in New York for a while, and it's nice. LA was cool, too, although we never technically moved there. Just a few months at a time when we were recording. Chicago's probably my favorite city to visit when we're on tour, though.”

He was rambling. He was definitely rambling. Taylor couldn't even remember the last time he had felt so flustered by a woman, and he certainly hadn't expected it to be a woman like Maureen who affected him that way. Then again, she did remind him, in so many ways of the last woman he had fallen for. Not plain, per se, but not the sort of flashy, celebrity-–or celebrity chasing-–type that he usually found himself involved with. She was just... _real_.

“I've never been to New York or LA,” Maureen replied. “Mostly just... lots of little towns. Chicago is really different for me, but I like it.”

“You should go, if you get the chance. Go anywhere and everywhere. I might get tired of some of the people, but the traveling? That'll never get old.”

Maureen laughed. “Yeah, I'll get right on that. Maybe when I become fantastically rich.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Taylor replied. “If you could go anywhere, where do you think you'd go?”

“Paris,” she replied immediately. “I mean, I'm an artist. So where else? Anywhere in Europe would be amazing, though. I used to have this book that I may have stolen from a library... it had all these amazing pictures of places in Europe that I'd never even heard of. I had no clue about all these places, all these big cities and remote little villages. Places I could disappear... I'm sorry, I know I sound strange.”

“No, you don't,” Taylor said. 

He had to admit that she did, a little bit, but he could certainly understand the desire to disappear. He had tried to do just that plenty of times; the difference was that he sought his escape at the bottom of a bottle or inside a plastic bag. Running away to Europe sounded amazing to him. He couldn't help picturing Maureen by his side, walking down some street in Paris, where no one would know either of them. It sounded absolutely insane and absolutely wonderful.

He sighed and tried to push such insane thoughts out of his mind. “Well, I hate to do this, but I have a soundcheck to do...”

“It's okay. I'm supposed to meet Summer for dinner soon, anyway,” Maureen said.

“Next time I have a night off, I'll give you another call. Maybe then we can talk for a little longer.”

“I'd like that,” Maureen replied, and Taylor thought he could almost _hear_ her smile.

“Great,” he said. “I'd like that, too. I'll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Taylor.”

“Bye, Maureen,” he replied, reluctantly pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call.

He sighed and leaned back against the couch. It would only be a few minutes before someone came looking for him to start their soundcheck. When they did, Taylor had no clue how he was going to explain the stupid grin that wouldn't leave his face or the way that he felt like he was floating. Talking to Maureen was a high unlike any he had found in any drug he'd tried. He could play it cool when he talked to her, but Taylor couldn't convince himself that he wasn't falling fast.


	9. A Song For A Scribbled Out Name

Maureen didn't know what to make of the few phone calls she had shared with Taylor. He seemed genuine and sincere, but their conversations were fairly boring and formal. He asked questions, gave a few answers of his own, and then he would have some excuse or another to hang up. She knew he was busy, though, so she tried not to take that personally.

Still, she seemed to hang on his every word. Her crush on him showed no signs of fading away, though she tried her best to hide it from him. She didn't dare let him know just how desperately she wanted to be near him. Even if they were developing some sort of friendship, it just wasn't realistic at all to think that someone like Taylor would really want to be with her. 

He had promised to call her again when he had a day off and she waited impatiently for two days, not knowing for sure when that call would come. She had checked his tour schedule, and knew that he was back home in Tulsa for a small break, but still the call hadn't come. By the third day with no phone call, she gave up waiting and decided to spend some time in the art studio on campus. It was a good way to take her mind off Taylor.

At least, it would have been if she could have stopped herself from drawing endless sketches of him.

She had been in the studio for over an hour when her cell phone finally began to ring, shocking her so much that she nearly fell off her stool before composing herself and answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's Taylor.”

A huge smile spread across Maureen's face. “I know. I mean, I added your name and number to my address book.”

“Good to know,” Taylor replied. “I guess I just feel like being polite, you know? Which reminds me, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. We're home for a few days, though, so I think we can make these calls a daily thing. I mean, if you'd like.”

“I would,” Maureen said quickly, then realized how eager and pathetic she sounded. “I mean, yeah. If you have the time, then I guess I can find it, too. I'm actually in the studio right now.”

“Studio? Oh, art studio, right. Well, I can let you go...”

Maureen thought she detected a hint of sadness in his voice, as though he didn't want to let her go. She definitely didn't want to hang up, either; she would just go back to drawing his face anyway. 

“No! I'm not busy right now. I was just wasting time. I do spend a lot of my free time here. And the rest of my time.”

“It's great to be so passionate about something,” Taylor replied. “Gets you through a lot of the bad stuff, doesn't it?”

“Yeah... it does.” 

Maureen couldn't imagine what sort of bad stuff Taylor could possibly have to deal with, but she had always been drawn to art. If she was lucky, she could get away with hiding away a few colored pencils and sheets of paper to draw on, but her father had largely not supported such a frivolous habit. During her brief stint in an actual high school, she had managed to take an art class and while she did well in all the classes, it was art that really provided her with the escape she wanted and needed until she was able to truly escape.

“So, what are you working on tonight?”

Maureen blushed, even though she knew that Taylor could see neither her nor her sketchpad. “Oh, nothing in particular. Just doodling, really.”

“Is that what you do? I mean, do you just draw or do you paint, too?”

“A little of everything,” Maureen replied. “I have to, for my classes. But I like it all. So far, pottery is the only thing that I haven't really been very good at.”

“I've never tried it. Zac and Avery-–that's my little sister-–are the real artists in the family, but I dabble. I'm sure you're much better than I am.”

“Well, you're a much better musician, so I suppose we're even,” Maureen replied, surprising herself with how easily she was able to be so flirty. She knew it wasn't much compared to the way Summer shamelessly flirted, but it was very, very new to her.

“Oh, do you play music, too?” Taylor asked.

Maureen giggled, blushing even deeper red. “No, not at all. So I think you are _definitely_ a better musician than I am.”

Taylor chuckled. “You never know. You might have an untapped talent.”

“I highly doubt that,” Maureen replied, idly doodling on a page next to an unfinished sketch of a piano. “I barely even listened to music at all until I started college, so I don't think there's any chance at all of me having some sort of hidden talent for it.”

“Not at all?” Taylor asked, sounding scandalized and just a little bit disgusted.

Maureen sighed. She hadn't meant to admit that. There was really no good way of explaining it without revealing the truth about her upbringing. She hadn't told anyone about it aside from Summer, who had not only not judged her but helped her to learn a lot of what she had missed out on, and Dr. Davis, her favorite art professor, who had grown up in a slightly less restrictive but similarly religious family. She doubted Taylor would be both as understanding as the two of them had been.

“Not... much,” she admitted, trying to choose her words carefully. “Like I said, I was pretty sheltered.”

“So was I,” Taylor replied. “We really only listened to oldies. Motown and things like that. We started listening to other stuff, watching MTV and all that, when we got serious about making it in the business. Had to see what we were really up against, you know?”

“Yeah,” Maureen said, even though she didn't know at all. Taylor truly had no clue what she meant when she said _sheltered_ and she wished that she could just keep it that way. It would be so much easier just to leave him in the dark. “I don't really mean like that, though. My family just... didn't listen to _any_ music.”

“Well, now I see why you hadn't heard of my band at all. I mean, plenty of people don't know what we're like now, but most girls your age are at least aware of Mmmbop. Sorry, I sound really full of myself again, don't I?”

“A little,” Maureen admitted. “But it must be strange talking to someone who is so clueless.”

Taylor chuckled. “No, it's alright. Kind of strange to get used to, but in the long run, it'll probably be good for my ego.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” Maureen replied, giggling. “So what do you even do when you have a few days off like right now?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, and Maureen briefly wondered if their call had been disconnected. Had Taylor lost signal? Had she? She pulled her phone away from her ear and checked – no, still connected.

“Taylor?”

“Sorry,” he replied. “Umm, I was just thinking. I actually have like two weeks off this time, except for a show in Philadelphia. We don't usually get breaks that long. It's... well, there's not a lot to do. Zac's just catching up with his friends, Isaac is with his family and I'm... kind of alone, really.”

“I'm sorry. But you can hang out with the rest of your family, right? You've got a lot of them, don't you?”

“Yeah,” Taylor replied. “It's just boring here, even with all of them. I'm so used to being on the road. It's not just that, though. I was thinking...”

“That could be dangerous,” Maureen said, giggling. “What were you thinking about?”

“About how much I'd like to see you again.”

The tone of his voice when he said that gave Maureen chills. Taylor wanted to see her? _Her?_ She supposed it shouldn't have been so surprising. They were friends now, after all. Friends hung out. But he wasn't just any friend, and her feelings for him weren't friendly at all. Something in the tone of his voice made her think that his intentions weren't entirely friendly, either.

“Umm, okay. But you're in... Oklahoma now, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “For now. But I'll be in Philadelphia soon. And it's not really on the way, but... well, I could fly into Chicago on my way to or from Philly, easily. No big deal at all to make a little trip there.”

Maureen thought her jaw might hit the floor. “It's a big deal to me! You can't just fly here to visit me just because you want to.”

“That's exactly why I can. I want to do it, I've got the time and I can afford it. So what's the problem?”

Other than what she thought was a ridiculous waste of money, Maureen really couldn't see a problem with it. Still, she felt like she should be objecting. 

“I... I don't know,” she finally said. “I suppose it's okay...”

“So that's a yes? I can come visit you? Just for a few days. I'll get a hotel and we can hang out in the evenings, afternoons, between classes – whenever is best for you. We'll do whatever you want.”

“I... yeah, I guess that's a yes,” Maureen replied.

“Great,” Taylor said, and Maureen could hear the obvious happiness in his voice. “It'll be great. No pressure. Just... two friends hanging out, okay?”

She couldn't help feeling a little disappointed at that. Was he only saying that because he could tell she wanted – needed – to take things slowly? Or did he really just want to be friends? She wasn't sure, but she didn't think that friends flew across the country to visit each other on a whim. She didn't really know, though. Taylor was only the second friend she'd ever had, the first being Summer.

Maybe Summer would have some advice for her...

Maureen dismissed that idea nearly as soon as it occurred to her. She couldn't imagine that Summer would be happy at this at all. She hadn't even wanted to tell Summer that Taylor had called, but Summer had annoyed the truth out of her. Maureen didn't think that telling her about this visit was a good idea. She didn't know how she was going to hide it, though.

“Maureen?”

“Hmm?” She asked, realizing that she had drifted off and not even really heard of word of Taylor's ramble about all the places in Chicago that he wanted to visit again.

“I was just talking about this great little Italian restaurant I want to take you to... if that's alright.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “That'll be great. Sorry, I'm just a little tired, I think.”

“Well, we can talk about it later. I'll check out flights tomorrow and then we'll see what will work best, okay? I honestly can't wait.”

“Me either,” she replied just as honestly. “It'll be... really good to see you again.”

“I promise I'll make a better impression this time. Goodnight, Maureen.”

“Goodnight, Taylor.”

Maureen stared down at her phone in disbelief even after ending the call. Had she really just agreed to go on a date with Taylor Hanson?


	10. The Kindest of Kisses Breaks the Hardest of Hearts

Maureen only had three days to prepare for Taylor's visit. It wasn't nearly enough time to even convince herself that it was really happening, let alone explain the situation to Summer. She had only been able to tell Summer that she had plans for Saturday night, which Summer assumed meant a hot date with the art studio. Maureen didn't have the courage or the words to disabuse her of that illusion; she had, in fact, nurtured it.

The truth was, Maureen wasn't even sure that she really wanted to go through with the date – if that was truly what it was – anymore.

Unfortunately, Taylor had already texted that his plane had arrived and he was catching a cab to her dorm. It was far too late to back out. Maureen stood in front of her mirror, trying to perfect her makeup even though her hands were shaking so hard that she could barely hold onto her mascara wand. When the dorm room door flew open, she nearly jumped a foot in the air.

“Uh... it's just me,” Summer said. “Were you expecting some – why are you getting all dolled up just to go work in the studio?”

Maureen sat her mascara wand down and turned around sheepishly to face Summer. “Umm, it's possible that I didn't actually _say_ that I was going to the studio. I just sort of let you believe that was what I meant by plans, since I never have any other sort of plans.”

“And what other sort of plans do you have now?” Summer asked, realizing quickly dawning on her. “Oh my god, you have a date! With who?!”

“Umm... Taylor Hanson.”

Summer's face went completely blank, as though the name meant nothing to her or her mind had completely refused to process the idea that Maureen might actually have a date with him. Maureen assumed it was the latter, especially since she herself didn't believe it and was seriously reconsidering it altogether.

Summer finally pulled herself together enough to stutter out, “How... why... honestly, do you listen to everything I tell you to do and then just decide to do the exact opposite?”

“No!” Maureen huffed. “And I don't even _want_ to go now, thank you very much. He could do so much better than me. I don't know why he even asked for my number or why he talks to me but... he does. And he's on his way here right now, and I'm just going to go hide in the bathroom until he leaves! So just... send him away. I don't care. Do whatever you want with him.”

She stormed out of the room before Summer could reply to that. She didn't even want to think about what Summer might do now that Maureen had given her permission to do whatever she wanted with Taylor. For as much as Summer put him down, she certainly seemed to be a fan of his. And he didn't seem as bad as Summer said, anyway. Still, Maureen knew she was in way over her head and truly shouldn't have been with someone like him, whatever he was really like.

The bathrooms in her old dorm were strange, even by dorm bathroom standards. Unlike most, which only had shower stalls, these had full sized tubs as well, set back in little curtained off stalls of their own. They were perfect for hiding and sulking, and Maureen was happy to see that no one was currently using any of them. She scurried into the farthest one from the door, yanked the curtain shut behind her, and curled up in the floor next to the tub, not caring how long she had to stay there until this nightmare ended.

When she heard the bathroom door creak open, Maureen tried to scoot even further into the floor in the hopes that it would swallow her up entirely.

“Maureen? Are you in here?”

To her surprise and horror, the voice belonged not to Summer, but to Taylor.

“Maureen... please... I know I'm not supposed to be in here.”

She couldn't stop a small sniffle from escaping, and it was soon followed by the sound of Taylor's footsteps approaching. She briefly considered climbing into the tub itself and pulling the curtain closed, but she knew that wouldn't stop him from finding her. 

The curtain was peeled back a few inches and Taylor's head appeared in the open space. “Maureen? Can we talk, please?”

“No,” she replied, sniffling again. 

“Okay,” Taylor said. “Can I talk while you listen?”

“Will you talk even if I say I'm not going to listen?”

“Probably,” he replied, smirking a little before turning serious. “So, your roommate said you wanted to cancel? And I'm not going to guilt you into it by reminding you that I somehow managed to get us a reservation at that place I told you about, but I totally did. I guess I just want to know why. It's just dinner. Just two friends, eating the best pasta in the world. It doesn't have to be any more intimidating than that. I'm not trying to make it into something that's going to scare you, but you gotta meet me halfway here. Or don't. I can totally go eat all that pasta without you.”

Maureen glanced up at Taylor, trying to judge whether or not he was being serious and sincere. She couldn't tell. He smiled down at her, but his eyes told a different story, although she couldn't quite read it. 

“Look,” he said. “I don't think your roommate likes me very much, but she said that if I was going to take you out, I better be good to you. And I plan to be. So if you still want to go out, we'll do whatever you want. And if you don't... well, I'll still be here for a day or two in case you change your mind.”

“I think... I think I'd like to still go out with you,” Maureen replied, still sniffling a little.

Taylor's smile widened. “Yeah? You do? That's great. I'm not going to lie, I'm glad you want it to really be a date, too.”

“It'll be my first date,” Maureen admitted, blushing.

Taylor took a tentative step toward her. “Hey. That's alright. I'll make it the best first date ever, I promise.”

“Can we... can we not go out to some fancy restaurant, though? I don't think I can handle that.”

“Sure,” Taylor replied with a shrug. “We can order a pizza and watch movies in my hotel room.”

Maureen glanced at him curiously. “You'd really do that?”

“Why not?” Taylor asked. “What, because of the reservation? I was just kidding about that. You being comfortable and happy means so much more to me than some reservation.”

Taylor held his hand out to Maureen and the look on his face was so sincere that she couldn't deny him. She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. He threaded his hand loosely in hers and led her out of the bathroom. Maureen didn't even care that a few girls by the sinks gave them strange looks. 

“Umm, let me just get my purse and tell Summer where we're going,” Maureen said once they were back out in the hallway.

“Okay,” Taylor replied, still smiling down at her.

Maureen didn't know how Summer would take _this_ news, but she didn't really care. She was going on her first date ever with Taylor Hanson, and she was going to enjoy it, in spite of all the reasons why she probably shouldn't.

****

A few short hours later, Maureen could hardly remember why she had been so worried about going on a date with Taylor. True to his word, he had called a cab to take them back to his hotel, where he immediately ordered a pizza with Maureen's choice of toppings. It was quite a feast, and she felt horribly guilty for letting him pay for all of it, even if it wasn't the fancy restaurant dinner he had planned. It was clear that he wanted to do everything he could to make her comfortable, and so far he had succeeded.

“So, what's your favorite movie?” Taylor asked as he flipped through the television channels. 

Maureen quickly took a sip of her soda to avoid, or at least delay, answering the question.

“What, you don't have one? Everyone has a favorite.”

“Maybe people who grew up watching a lot of movies,” Maureen replied, adding under her breath, “Or any movies at all.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “You weren't kidding about growing up sheltered, were you?”

“No,” Maureen said, shaking her head. “I really wasn't.”

“I guess that's why you haven't been on a date before.”

Maureen felt herself blushing again, and the same old anxiety bubbled back up. She suddenly couldn't remember why she had agreed to this. 

“I'm sorry,” Taylor said. “I don't mean to pry. I'm just curious. I want to get to know you. You're a puzzle.”

“I'm not really that interesting. My family was just religious, that's all.”

It wasn't a lie at all. In fact, it was the truth. It just wasn't the _entire_ truth, but Maureen didn't quite trust Taylor with that yet. He seemed to have had something of a similar childhood to hers, at least as far as religion and homeschooling was concerned, but she highly doubted it was really that similar. And his life now was definitely nothing like hers. There was just no way he could really understand. Soon he would get tired of putting up with all the baggage she came with; she was sure of it.

“So was mine, but...” Taylor trailed off, his brow furrowing as thought he had realized yet again that he was about to sound terribly cocky. It was something Maureen was getting used to – Taylor being unintentionally self-centered.

“Well, I guess our families were pretty different,” she said, shrugging. She didn't want to place any more importance on that difference than necessary. “But yes, that's why I've never been on a date. Like I said, I was homeschooled sometimes and we moved around even more, so... I didn't really have any friends until college. I had a _lot_ of catching up to do, and I guess I'm still behind.”

“So you haven't even... dated since you started college?”

Maureen blushed. “No, not really. I go to parties sometimes with Summer, but... well, that's not really like _dating_ , is it?”

“No, not at all, I'd say,” Taylor replied, giving Maureen a little nudge. “So, you can cut loose from time and time, hmm? I wouldn't have thought you were the party type.”

“I'm not!” She replied, her blush only deepening. Her entire face felt like it was on fire. “I might go to the parties, but I don't really enjoy them. And it's not like I go that often. Nowhere near as often as Summer does.”

“Alright, alright,” Taylor said, chuckling. “I'm not accusing you of anything. Just constantly being surprised by you.”

“Surprised? How?”

Taylor scooted a little closer to her. “Well, the fact that you're still here, sitting on a hotel bed with me, is fairly surprising.”

“Is it?” Maureen asked, not sure where Taylor was going with this, but quite certain that he was flirting. 

“It is,” he replied. “I figured you would make some excuse to go home early, even if you were having fun. You'd assume I wanted... something... from you and leave. But you're still here, you little party girl.”

Maureen rolled her eyes, but her blush didn't fade a bit. It seemed to have taken over her entire body; she was sure that if she glanced down, she would find she was bright red from head to toe. Taylor didn't seem to notice-–or if he did, he didn't mind.

“So, stop me if I get ahead of myself, but...” Taylor said, his voice softening a little as he reached out and touched Maureen's arm. “Can I kiss you? Just one kiss, and then you can decide if you'd like another.”

“I suppose _one_ is okay,” Maureen replied, surprising even herself. 

She didn't feel nearly as confident as her words made her seem, and that confidence faded even further as she watched Taylor's eyes flutter shut as he leaned in toward her. She closed her own eyes just seconds before his lips touched hers, much more delicately than they had the first time. His lips moved slowly against hers, letting her set the pace. 

The kiss ended far sooner than Maureen would have liked. She found herself surprised that Taylor had been the first of them to pull away, and she stared up at him wide-eyed and flustered.

“Well? Just the one, or would you like a few more?”

“I think I'd like a lot more,” Maureen admitted.


	11. Hard To Chase But Good To Catch

Against her better judgment, Maureen had let Taylor talk her into spending the night in his hotel. After calling Summer, which hadn't been pleasant, and borrowing a shirt and pair of boxers from him, she still felt no more comfortable with the plan. Still, she fell asleep easily on the down pillows and luxurious sheets. They were unlike anything she had grown up sleeping on and certainly far better than her dorm room bed.

At her insistence, although Taylor hadn't really argued, they had slept in separate beds. She was thankful that, for whatever reason, Taylor had gotten a room with two. She wondered if he had anticipated the entire thing, right down to her insisting on sleeping alone.

If he had, she decided that she didn't really mind.

Maureen slept so soundly tucked into the hotel bed that she didn't wake up until the sound of the shower running hit her ears. That was an unusual sound and it nudged her awake gently, giving her time to remember where she was. Not knowing what else to do, she remained in bed and reveled in the way her improvised pajamas smelled like Taylor.

A few minutes later, Taylor emerged from the bathroom. Maureen braced herself for serious embarrassment, but was surprised to see that he was already dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a white t-shirt. Except for the towel slung over his shoulder and his damp hair, he looked too flawless to have just woken up and emerged from a shower. Yet, he had.

His apparent perfection only gave Maureen more cause to wonder why he wanted her at all.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Taylor asked. “I know you didn't bring a change of clothes, so...”

Maureen shook her head. “Umm, no, I guess not. I should get dressed, though.”

“I don't see a problem with what you're wearing,” Taylor replied with a grin. “I mean, I might recommend actual pants. Otherwise, you look great.”

She glanced down at herself, curly hair going wild and wearing Taylor's clothes, then looked up at Taylor and raised a dubious eyebrow.

“I swear,” he said. “You look beautiful. But you can use any of the hotel stuff or any of my stuff if you wanna get cleaned up a bit. The bathroom's all yours.”

“Thanks,” Maureen replied, not knowing what else to say and hoping that word covered everything she felt.

Taylor seemed happy enough, and turned his back to her to dig his laptop out of his bag. With a sigh, Maureen pulled herself out of bed, grabbing her denim skirt from the floor, and walked into the bathroom.

One glance at herself in the mirror and she decided that Taylor _really_ needed to get his eyes checked. Her hair was even wilder than usual, its untamed curls going in all possible directions. What little of her makeup remained was smudged all over her face. Since she didn't have a change of clothes, she decided that wetting her hair down and trying to turn it into something reasonable was her only option. As for makeup... she would have to do without. And she really hoped that Taylor didn't mind if she just wore his t-shirt, advertising some band she'd never heard of, with her skirt. 

It wasn't perfect, but Taylor hadn't seemed all that picky, so she hoped it was okay.

When she emerged from the bathroom feeling only slightly cleaner and still smelling like Taylor, he glanced up and gave her another big smile. Maureen feared that those big, bright smiles of his would eventually kill her. 

“So, I was thinking...” Taylor said. “We could order room service or we could go to the restaurant downstairs. Your choice.”

“Umm... I guess the restaurant would be okay,” Maureen replied. She wasn't totally confident that she could handle being in public with Taylor, but a hotel restaurant was different than the _actual_ public, she reasoned.

“Great. I'm ready whenever you are,” Taylor replied, slamming his laptop shut to punctuate the sentence and prove his point.

“I guess I'm ready,” Maureen said.

A few moments later, after slipping her shoes on and gathering up all her things, including the glittery tank top she had worn the night before, Maureen allowed Taylor to slip his hand into hers and lead her out of the room. They walked hand in hand to the elevator, but Maureen noticed the way that Taylor casually dropped her hand before the doors opened to the lobby. She wondered what he was trying to protect-–her insecurity or his popularity.

In the end, she found that she felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment that they couldn't just walk into the restaurant together, as a couple, if that was truly what they were.

The hotel's restaurant was, to Maureen's relief, fairly empty. It was that awkward time between breakfast and lunch when few people ate, and she was thankful for that. She followed Taylor's lead and ordered an omelet, since she supposed that the first meal of the day ought to be at least somewhat like breakfast even if it was getting close to noon.

“So,” Taylor said after the waitress walked away with their menus. “How was your first date ever?”

“Not so bad,” Maureen replied, smiling and blushing. “You were... a perfect gentleman, actually.”

“You don't have to sound so surprised.”

“I didn't mean to,” she said, her smile falling a bit. “It's just... well, I _have_ heard some stories. And then, you know, that night on your tour bus...”

Maureen felt foolish even mentioning that and guilty for implying that she had heard rumors about him. It was the truth, though, and it was something she figured they probably needed to address as some point. That seemed like the adult thing to do, she reasoned, even if she didn't know a thing about how to have a relationship.

Taylor frowned. “I'm not going to ask what you've heard about me. I don't really want to know and I have a feeling you probably don't _really_ want to talk about it. I know there are... rumors. And there is truth to some of them. Can we leave it at that?”

Maureen nodded softly, although she didn't really agree with him at all. “It's just... well, I guess I need to know I can trust you.”

“Am I acting like you've heard that I act?”

“No... not now,” she replied slowly. “But you weren't this guy the night I met you.”

“But I'm this guy now,” he said, his voice soft. “What more do I need to do to make up for that and prove that this is who I am and I want to be?”

“I don't know,” Maureen replied honestly. “I guess it will just take time. I really don't know. If I hadn't even been on a date, how can you expect me to know anything at all about relationships?”

“Relationships?” Taylor echoed, smirking a little. “Is that what this is?”

Maureen blushed. “I... I didn't... I mean, I don't know _what_ this is.”

“I know,” Taylor replied. “I'm sorry. You know it's whatever you want it to be. No pressure, I promise.”

She nodded. “I guess... maybe I just need some more time to decide what I want it to be.”

“Then time is what you've got. As much of it as you need.”

“Alright,” Maureen replied.

She wanted to say more, ask him more about why he was going to such lengths to prove himself to her, but she didn't know how to say it at all. It didn't matter, though, because the waitress soon arrived with their food. Taylor dove into his omelet as though he were truly starving, and Maureen could only watch with amusement as she picked at her own and wondered how much the fairly simple meal must cost in such a fancy hotel.

“Is your food okay?” Taylor asked during a brief pause to sip his coffee.

“Yeah,” she replied. “It's fine. I'm just... thinking, I guess.”

“About what?”

“About you,” she admitted. “Still trying to figure you out.”

Taylor's brow furrowed slightly, but he smiled. “Okay, well... ask. Anything you want to know, I'll do my best to answer.”

He didn't sound entirely sincere, but Maureen didn't think it was wise to question him on that. Instead, she decided to be as vague as possible.

“Okay, then. Why don't you just tell me about yourself? More than what I could read on your website.”

Taylor sipped his coffee and seemed to contemplate the question for a moment. Finally, he sat his coffee cup down. “Alright. Well, you know the basics, right? Born in Oklahoma, still live there after a few detours, got my first record deal when I was thirteen, twenty seven years old now...”

“Yes, I know all that,” Maureen replied. She didn't like the reminder of his age, though. It was yet another way for her to be reminded that she just wasn't right for him.

“Well, let's see... I just got into photography. I like architecture, too. And art, but you knew that. I'm really talkative. You might have noticed that one, too. And really passionate about our charity work, which... I think you know about that, too.”

“I do,” Maureen replied. “I knew a lot of that.”

“It's all pretty basic, I guess,” Taylor admitted. “It's hard to know how to talk about yourself in more specific terms than that. That stuff's concrete and real and you can't really tell me it isn't true. Just like all the stuff you've told me about yourself. The rest... I guess we'll just have to learn as we go.”

That answer disappointed Maureen a little, but she could see the logic in it. She nodded and gave Taylor a small smile. “I guess so. It's hard for me to talk about myself at all, so the fact that you know _anything_ about me by now is pretty impressive.”

“I know a lot about you,” Taylor replied. “I know that you're very insecure, even though I can see no reason for you to be. You're nervous about all the things you missed out on, growing up so sheltered, but you're curious and willing to learn and you don't seem _bothered_ at all by anything being different than what you knew. You're very smart, and I bet you're very talented, too. And you may not be very trusting, but that just makes it all the more... humbling, I suppose, to see how much you have grown to trust me.”

Maureen just stared at him, her jaw threatening to fall completely to the floor.

“Well? What about me?” He asked.

Maureen considered the question for a moment. Taylor seemed to disregard her entirely, diving back into his coffee and omelet as though he hadn't just rambled on about all the things it seemed he adored about her. She didn't think she could duplicate that at all.

“You're...” she began, still unsure she had found any words at all for him. “You're probably even more of a puzzle than you think I am. I mean, you're supposed to be this big, partying rockstar... and I guess you are. And you're kind of cocky, but you know that you are and you always apologize for it. And you clearly know how attractive you are, and you'll probably apologize for that, too, if given the chance. And you do talk so much, but you always have something to say. It's like you _think_ too much and the thoughts just have to get out. And... well, that's all I know so far, I guess.”

“That's a lot,” Taylor said, smiling and just barely blushing. “It's all pretty accurate, I think. And you're right, I would apologize for knowing I'm attractive. But I'm glad you think I am.”

“I didn't...” Maureen sighed. “I guess I did say that.”

“Enough about me,” Taylor replied, still smiling. “What are we going to do today?”

“Today? As in... all day?”

Taylor's smile turned into a bit of a smirk. “Well, I hope you're not tired of me yet. I'm still here until tomorrow afternoon.”

“No, I'm not tired of you yet,” Maureen replied.

What she didn't say was that she didn't think she would _ever_ tire of him.


	12. Turn Me Into A Crumbling Fool

Maureen hadn't been sure that Taylor was serious when he suggested that they spend the rest of the day together, but she soon learned that he was. They spent the entire afternoon wandering up and down streets that Maureen had barely had cause to visit at all during her two years in Chicago. They looked in windows of stores Maureen couldn't imagine ever having enough money to shop in and ate hot dogs from a cart that Taylor assured her had the best in the city. In the evening, they went back to his hotel room and watched movies while eating burgers from room service. 

Maureen never wanted the day to end, but eventually she had to go back to her dorm room, if only to ensure that she made it to class the next morning. She narrowly avoided seeing Summer all evening, but had to promise the next morning that she would fill her in on the date as soon as possible.

She dreaded that, but she knew it would have to happen eventually. What she dreaded even more was saying goodbye to Taylor. It had worked out perfectly, though. His flight didn't leave until fairly late in the afternoon, after all of her classes had ended. Before she left his hotel the previous night, he had talked her into coming to the airport with him to eat lunch and hang out for a while before he left.

Maureen feared that she might cry when it came time to actually leave him. Just in case, she borrowed Summer's water proof mascara and eyeliner that morning.

It was silly, she knew, to miss him so much before he had even actually left, but that was exactly how she felt. She didn't fully trust or understand him yet, but the fact that he had taken so much time to get to know her spoke volumes about who he was. It didn't matter what Summer said or what rumors she found online. The Taylor she had seen was genuinely a good guy. And he was the first one of those to ever show any interest in her.

It wasn't a short cab ride to O'Hare, and Maureen had a feeling that Taylor would probably offer to pay her back for it. She decided that letting him pay for their lunch – along with every other meal they had shared – was all that her pride would allow. She might not have had much money of her, even with her work study and what little she made selling commissioned pieces of art, but it was hers to spend as she saw fit.

Maureen sent Taylor a text as soon as the cab dropped her off, and after a few minutes of texting and aimless wandering, she finally spotted a familiar figure standing in front of Starbucks. There was a hat pulled down low over his eyes and the collar of his jacket was turned up, but already Maureen could pick out Taylor from across a crowd just by his posture alone. She wasn't surprised by his location or the cup held tightly in his hand.

“Hey, Maureen,” Taylor said as she approached, his wide smile spreading nearly all the way across his face. “You found me, huh?”

“Yeah, finally,” she replied, not having time to add anything else before he stepped toward her and swept her up into a tight hug.

It was though they hadn't seen each other for weeks, not hours. Maureen didn't want to even imagine what it might feel like if it truly had been weeks. The fact that she knew it could and most likely _would_ be weeks or even months before she could see him again left her feeling far less excited about their lunch date than Taylor seemed to be.

“So, there's a little cafe over here,” Taylor said, nodding to their left after reluctantly letting go of Maureen. “They have really good sandwiches. Surprisingly, Starbucks has better coffee, though. I'm not really a big fan, but they're everywhere, so... I'm rambling again, aren't I?”

Maureen only nodded and giggled. She had long since decided that Taylor's habit of rambling was one of her favorite things about him. That day, in particular, he seemed even more wordy than usual. She wondered if that was just his way of coping with having to say goodbye to her, but she didn't want to convince herself that it was really getting to him as much as it was her.

“Okay, well, umm...” Taylor said, nudging Maureen toward the cafe. “Order whatever you want, and I guess we can sit over on those couches and eat. Not the fanciest, I know, but it'll have to do.”

“Fancy enough for me,” Maureen replied, glancing up at the cafe's menu. It might not have been that fancy, but it _was_ expensive, and she already knew that Taylor would insist on paying.

Taylor ordered first while Maureen considered her options. She couldn't help being amused by the way his eyes lit up and his mouth practically began watering as he asked for a BLT and espresso brownie. In just the short time she had known him, Maureen felt confident that she could have predicted that as his order. Not being entirely sure what some of the menu items even were, Maureen decided to play it safe with something called the “classic tuna sandwich.” She thought that would be fairly safe and unlikely to surprise her with some ingredient she'd never seen before. That happened enough in the college cafeteria; she really didn't relish the thought of asking Taylor what some strange looking vegetable or condiment on her sandwich was.

With their food in hand, Maureen and Taylor made their way to a small little grouping of couches and chairs that were surprisingly unoccupied despite how busy the airport was. Maureen couldn't help thinking that somehow Taylor had known they would be able to find such a space, and it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside to realize that he was making such little adjustments for her. He might not have truly understood why she was the way she was, but he seemed to know exactly what to do to make her comfortable.

“So,” Taylor said between bites of his sandwich. “What's your plan for the rest of the evening?”

Maureen shrugged. “I don't have to work, so... probably just homework. And at some point, telling Summer all about the weekend with you, I guess.”

“You don't sound so thrilled about that,” he replied.

“Well... the thing is...” Maureen said, suddenly regretting having mentioned Summer at all. “You probably couldn't tell when you met her, but she's kind of a Hanson fan. She's the reason I went to the concert to begin with. But she doesn't really seem all that happy about you and me being... together.”

“Jealous?” Taylor asked, then made a face and laughed. “Sorry, I'm being cocky again. I just assumed.”

Maureen shrugged. “It's partly that, I think. But she tried to... warn me about you, too.”

“What did she say?” Taylor asked, his voice turning serious.

“Umm, not much,” Maureen replied, hating that the subject of Taylor's reputation kept coming up. “Just that you liked to party and stuff. That you weren't the type to settle down.”

“No. I guess I'm not.” Taylor's voice was sharp and curt. A moment later, his eyes softened and he added, “I'm sorry, I don't mean... well, I _haven't_ really settled down before. Not for good, obviously. Doesn't mean I'm incapable of it.”

“Right...” Maureen replied, totally unsure of what to say when Taylor suddenly seemed so upset.

Taylor sighed. “I'm sorry, I really am. I'm not mad at you. Or your roommate. I just... get tired of the way people talk about me and think that they know who I really am. But you're getting to know me, and I hope that you can see that I'm not... not really a bad guy.”

“I can,” Maureen said. “Maybe not at first, I'll admit, but I see it now.”

“Good,” Taylor replied, then leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Remind me again why I'm leaving?”

“Umm, because you have a job to do?”

“Oh, right,” Taylor said. “I guess I can't just skip out on the concerts to spend more time with you, can I?”

“I don't think so,” Maureen replied, chuckling a little. “I'm pretty sure the rest of your band wouldn't appreciate that very much.”

“You're probably right. And I suppose I _should_ care what they think, shouldn't I?”

Maureen giggled. “Yes, I suppose you should. Don't want to upset them so much that they start looking for a replacement.”

“Like they could ever replace me,” Taylor replied with a huge grin.

She could only roll her eyes and laugh at that. Somehow, Taylor made being horribly self-centered kind of charming. How he managed that, she had no clue, and she doubted that any other guy in the world could manage to do the same. It was just a part of Taylor's charm, though.

A voice on the PA system cut through her thoughts to announce yet again which flights were boarding. Maureen tried to ignore all of the announcements, as though she could pretend that if she didn't hear it, Taylor truly wasn't leaving. She couldn't ignore it when she heard the words “New York,” though. She didn't know for sure if that was Taylor's flight, but the way he sighed and shifted in his seat suggested that it was.

“Last chance,” Taylor said. “Give me one good reason to get on that plane.”

“Umm... so you don't get kicked out of the band or disappoint all your fans?”

“I said a good reason,” Taylor replied, a slight smirk crossing his face. “You're right, you're right. As much as I want to, I can't stay here.”

“I wish you could,” Maureen admitted, immediately blushing.

Taylor shoved aside his empty food wrappers and took Maureen's hand in his. “Me too. Honestly. If I could just stay here with you and say 'fuck it' to the rest of the tour, I would.”

His sudden cursing took Maureen somewhat by surprise. It was the harshest word she'd heard him say in the short time she'd known him, and while she didn't really have a _problem_ with that sort of language, it did always seem to shock her whenever someone used it. It was yet another thing she had grown up sheltered from that made her feel foolish as soon as her initial reaction to it passed. Taylor hardly seemed to notice, though.

“Well,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I guess I should go. Walk with me?”

Maureen nodded. Taylor let her hand fall and quickly gathered up his bags and both of their scattered pieces of trash. He dropped those in a can nearby, then came back and offered Maureen his hand again.

They walked silently for a moment, passing easily through the crowds around them. Maureen was glad that Taylor had fallen silent, too; all of the movement around them and the unfamiliar environment made her very nervous. She didn't think she could have spoken a word if she'd wanted to. Taylor moved with purpose, though, and she supposed that wasn't surprising at all. Airports were probably like a second home to him.

Taylor finally paused a few feet away from a long line of people waiting for... well, Maureen really wasn't sure what. She assumed that whatever it was, he would have to join the line soon. He turned back to Maureen and took both of her hands in his.

“Okay,” he said. “I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” Maureen replied, totally unable to keep her words from coming out like a sad little sigh.

“I'll be back as soon as I possibly can,” Taylor said. “I promise. And I'll call you at least every other day. Every day, if I can.”

“You don't have to do all that,” Maureen said.

Taylor's brow furrowed a little. “I guess I don't. But I want to. You mean a lot to me... already. I want to see you more, and if I can't see you, then I want to talk to you. Is that a problem?”

“No, it's not,” she replied. “It's just a little hard to believe.”

“Well, believe it, darling,” Taylor said, smiling.

Maureen couldn't help return his smile. “I'm trying. I'm really trying.”

Taylor leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Maureen's lips. He pulled back when the same voice came over the PA system again, and his smile was gone.

“That's my flight,” he said. “Bye, Maureen.”

“Bye, Taylor.”

With one last squeeze of her hands, Taylor finally managed to peel himself away from Maureen and join the long line for his flight. Maureen wanted to stay and watch him disappear, but she feared that would only make her feel worse. Better to just leave and let that kiss be her last memory of him, she decided.

As she walked away and tried to remember the way to the parking lot, Maureen realized she was being terribly dramatic about Taylor's departure. She knew it wasn't the last time she would ever see him; he had promised her that. Yet she couldn't stop herself from feeling all alone even though he had only left her moments before.


	13. Chase All The Pain Away

Taylor had known it was a bad idea to go to New York a few days before he actually needed to be there. It gave him far too much time to be alone and think, and those were two things he didn't need to do at that particular time of year. If only he'd been smart enough to spend a few more days with Maureen...

Maureen. She was like no one else he'd ever known. He supposed that wasn't entirely true, but it was what he kept telling himself, because he knew he would only drive himself crazier if he cataloged all the ways that she reminded him of Natalie. 

Eight years. It had been eight damn years and he still couldn't make it through the first week of September without falling apart.

If Maureen knew anything about that particular part of his past, she hadn't said a word about it. Every time she inched closer to asking him about his past and about all the horrible rumors, it made him nervous. She was sweet and innocent, he could tell, but he feared that wouldn't be a good thing if she really knew him. If she really knew him, she would judge him and run from him. He would lose her. He needed to protect her from those dark parts of his life, the parts he was trying desperately to leave behind.

It all began in Los Angeles, but it was in New York that he truly hit rock bottom. Coming there by himself, four days before his brothers would arrive, was one of the stupidest ideas Taylor had ever had.

They had lived in New York for three years, and Taylor knew that the biggest reason they had moved back to Tulsa was for his own safety and sanity. They all made excuses about it, about how Isaac wanted to settle down with Nikki and how their main studio was back in Tulsa, but Taylor knew they were trying to get him back home where they thought they could protect him. It worked, a little bit. He still fell back into those bad habits from time to time, but as long as he wasn't there, where he had lost Natalie, he could almost pretend he was a normal, functional adult.

He hadn't been back to that old apartment since the day they moved out, but with several days on his own, he had nothing else to do but roam the streets. Without a plan in mind, his feet just carried him there. Taylor hadn't even realized he was walking that way until he suddenly found himself standing in front of their apartment building, staring up at the window of the bedroom he'd shared with Natalie.

Taylor didn't even know how long he stood there on the sidewalk, staring up at an empty window. Some guy in a suit walked out of the apartment building's front door and gave him a strange look. For a split second, Taylor considered running to the door before it slammed shut and locked behind him, but he knew that was ridiculous. What could he do once he was inside? Roam the hallways? It wasn't like he could get anyone to let him into the apartment he'd once rented and even if he could, he knew there was no closure to be had there. The only things he would find within those rooms were ghosts.

He had to leave. Standing there all night would just make him go even more insane.

When Taylor finally turned to leave and make his way back closer to the part of town where his hotel was, he was surprised to see that it was already getting late. He wondered just how long he'd stood outside the apartment like a crazy person. Checking the time on his phone didn't help; he had no clue when he'd arrived there. Now at least he knew that it was nine o'clock. A few of the bars he liked to visit would really be getting busy soon, he thought to himself. Maybe he could stop in at one or two of them once he got back into the right neighborhood.

What he should do, he knew, was go straight back to his hotel room and call Maureen. 

He couldn't do it, though. He couldn't tell her about his past. It would only send her running if she knew how horrible and fucked up he was. She was too innocent for that. Natalie had been too innocent for a guy like him, too, and he'd destroyed her. Taylor couldn't let the same thing happen to Maureen.

The more he thought about Maureen, the more it felt like his world was closing in on him. Eventually, she would find out. There was no way he could shield her from the truth forever. When she did, she would leave him... or worse.

There was no escaping it, Taylor realized.

There _was_ a temporary escape, though. It was one that Taylor knew well, and though he knew it would solve none of his problems at all, he couldn't think of a single other thing to do. As if they had a mind of their own once again, his feet carried him back to a familiar bar a block or two away from his hotel.

It was one of the bars he'd visited a lot when he still lived in New York, but it didn't hold any horrible memories like the apartment. Most of his nights there were chemically altered to the point that no memories had stuck in his mind anyway. How he'd even made it all the way back to their apartment from that far away, he really didn't know. Taylor made it a point to stay far away when he was fucked up, though. Isaac and Zac had threatened to kick his ass enough times that he learned to seek out bars and parties too far away for them to follow him.

This was close to his hotel, though. He might make it back there in one piece, but then again, he might not. As Taylor walked in the door and nodded toward the bartender who's face he could remember but not his name, he decided that he didn't care if he made it back to his hotel at all. 

He only had to sit through two bourbons before another familiar face walked through the door. Taylor couldn't remember his name, either, but names weren't really necessary. Neither were most pleasantries. Altogether, it hardly took five minutes for Taylor to accomplish what he had hoped to accomplish.

The drinks were nice, and he left a hefty tip for them before sliding off his bar stool to leave, but he had hoped to find something stronger.

His friend, if you could call him that, supplied everything that Taylor needed. Taylor wasn't picky. He'd take whatever was given, whatever held some promise of fixing everything that was wrong with his mind.

It might not be a permanent fix, but it was the only one that Taylor knew. It was the only way he knew to deal. Knowing that Maureen would hate him for it didn't stop him, even though it should have. It was pointless to try to pretend he was something he wasn't, something better than this.

He wasn't better than this.

****

The next few days were a total blur. Taylor ate and slept a little, but never at the right times of day. Nothing seemed to feel right, and it seemed like every time he ventured out of his hotel room, all the people around him were staring at him and judging him. He called but couldn't reach any of his old acquaintances, so he was left with no choice but to lock himself up in his hotel room and wait for his brothers.

That didn't improve the situation. With nothing but four walls and a television to stare at, he could find no solace. Each line he did only made it worse. He was jittery and nervous, pacing around the room and talking to himself. He smoked a few joints to bring himself down when it became too much to handle, but that didn't help either. Finally he got a call through to another old friend and she brought him a few pills. She was vague about what they were, but they were Taylor's last hope for a tiny bit of peace, so he didn't really care.

He didn't want to waste his time waiting for them to make it to his bloodstream. Although his body protested it, his nose already itchy and sore, he crushed the pills up and snorted them like a fine line of cocaine. They didn't bring that immediate sense of euphoria, though. They only burned and made his head ache. 

He leaned back in his chair and said a silent prayer. It was blasphemous, he knew, but he didn't care. If he sat there one minute longer, cataloging all of his sins, he knew he would go completely insane. It was that voice in his head, telling him how awful he was, that had driven Taylor to this point anyway. If only it would just _shut up_ , he thought.

A few minutes later, he began to feel the effect of the mystery pills, a beautiful numbness seeping throughout his body. He leaned back in the hotel room chair and let the feeling wash over him. It seemed to creep up his body, tingling his spine and finally, _finally_ emptying his mind of all the thoughts that had plagued it for days.

For once that week, he didn't feel worthless. He didn't feel like Maureen deserved better than him. He didn't feel like _Natalie_ had deserved better than him. He couldn't remember all the various ways he'd ruined his life. There was just nothingness-–nothing but that warm, soothing feeling of floating away.

He barely heard Zac's voice drifting through that haze, calling out his name.


	14. Always Bruised and Broken

_Five days._

Those two words kept repeating in Maureen's mind. The first day or two, Taylor had sent her a few texts, but those became few and far between before stopping completely. It had been five whole days since she had last see him at the airport, walking away from her. Somehow, she had known that was some sort of ending. She had known that it could never have been the beginning of a real relationship between the two of them. That weekend, she knew, would be all they ever had.

Still, she felt like he owed her something. He owed her some explanation for why he was ignoring her. Even if he was totally out of league, that didn't mean he couldn't explain himself. Maureen didn't need to know anything about relationships to understand that; it was just common courtesy, she thought.

Maureen refused to tell Summer that Taylor hadn't called. She didn't think she could handle hearing her say “I told you so” as many times as she inevitably would. At the same time, Maureen felt awful about actually lying to her best friend. So she just didn't tell her anything at all and tried to pretend to be happy so that Summer wouldn't know anything was wrong.

When she made up her mind to finally call him, though, she decided that she definitely didn't want to be around Summer when she made the call.

She went to the art studio in the afternoon after class as usual, knowing that Summer wouldn't be there. There would be plenty of privacy in one of the unused classrooms for her to call Taylor and finally get some answers from him. As her phone rang and rang, she paced around the room, circling the easels uneasily. It seemed to ring forever and she wondered if Taylor was going to completely ignore her.

Finally the phone stopped ringing. There was a pause and then a voice.

“Hello?”

But not Taylor's voice. Maureen blinked, and glanced down at her phone's screen. She had definitely dialed the right number. So why had someone other than Taylor answered?

“This... umm... this isn't Taylor, is it?” Maureen stuttered out, even though she was quite sure she already knew the answer.

“No,” the voice replied, sounding annoyed. “But this is his phone, and your number was in it, so I'm assuming you do actually know him?”

None of this made any sense to Maureen. It gave her a sick, nervous feeling in her stomach. She knew she couldn't turn back, though. She had to find out who this stranger was who had answered Taylor's phone, and why Taylor himself hadn't.

“Yes, umm... he's m-my... he's a friend. He visited last week, and I h-haven't heard from him since...” The words came out in an awkward, jumbled stutter, and Maureen could only hope that whoever she was speaking with understood and believed her.

“The girl in Chicago.”

It was a statement, not a question, but Maureen still replied, “Yes. Yeah, I... live in Chicago.”

“Okay, then I suppose you do know him well enough for me to tell you what happened.”

“What _happened_?” Maureen squeaked out.

There was a long pause and a cough on the other end, and Maureen could only fear the worst as she waited for a reply.

“I'm his brother, Isaac. Taylor has... well, he's in the hospital. He made himself a little sick yesterday, it seems.” 

“But he's okay? He'll be okay? How did he make himself sick?” The questions fell out of Maureen's mouth almost simultaneously.

“I hate to tell you this, Maureen, but he... he overdosed.”

She heard the word, but she didn't understand it. It wasn't that she didn't know what overdosing _was_ , but she couldn't fathom the sweet, gentle Taylor she'd gotten to know doing something that awful. He'd seemed so happy... so sure of himself. Surely that sort of person didn't need to turn to drugs, did they?

She didn't have an answer for herself.

“Maureen? Are you still there?”

She nodded, then realized how silly that was. “Y-yeah... I'm still here. Sorry, did you say he overdosed? On... what?”

“From the looks of things? A little bit of everything.” Isaac sighed, then continued, “Look, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. It's obviously a shock and... well, I don't even know you, so maybe I shouldn't be telling you at all.”

“No. No, it's fine,” Maureen replied, even though it wasn't at all.

“I would let you talk to Taylor... let him explain himself, I guess... but, well, he's asleep or passed out or both right now. When he's more coherent, I can tell him to give you a call.”

“No!” Maureen nearly screamed. “I mean... sorry. No, that's alright. Tell him I called, but he... he doesn't need to call me back if he doesn't want to.”

“Oh,” Isaac said. “Okay, if that's... yeah, alright. I'll pass along the message. Umm, sorry we had to meet this way, I guess.”

“Yeah, I'm sorry, too. Goodbye.”

Maureen ended the call before Isaac could say anything else. She didn't think he had any more answers for her anyway. He seemed so... blasé about it all. Had this happened before, she wondered? It must have, from the way Isaac seemed to just take it in stride. Overdosing must have just been something Taylor did from time to time. Which meant _drugs_ were something he did, most likely with even more frequency.

She'd been warned, though, hadn't she?

Summer had tried to tell her what Taylor was like. He was no angel, Summer had said, and Maureen hadn't listened at all. His halo was only a little tarnished, she'd convinced herself. But he meant well and he was a good person, she'd thought.

Now she wasn't so sure.

She _did_ want to talk to him-–scream at him, mostly-–but she doubted that he could, as Isaac said, explain himself. What explanation could there possibly be for going on some drug binge and overdosing just days after attempting to begin a relationship with her? When things had seemed so good, for both of them, what could possibly have caused him to do such a thing? Maureen didn't think anything Taylor could have said would have sufficed to explain that. 

She wasn't sure there was anything else he could ever say to her again that would be good enough to make up for this.

Maureen wondered if she was being too hard on Taylor. A tiny part of her heart told her that she was, but most of it was filled with anger and a little bit of fear. She didn't think she had really ever known Taylor at all, if this was what he was capable of when she wasn't around. Once again, she had proven herself incapable of judging people correctly.

Summer was going to love this, Maureen thought. She almost didn't want to tell her.

But she couldn't sit alone in the art studio, sobbing onto a blank canvas. Eventually, she would have to leave and rejoin the rest of the world. When she did, she didn't think she could keep this to herself. And Summer was the only person she had, the only friend she could talk to. Whether she truly wanted to or not, Maureen realized she would have to tell Summer.

She wiped her tears off on her sleeve the best that she could, frowning when she saw traces of eye makeup on the cuff of her shirt. It would have to do, she supposed. She probably wouldn't run into anyone in the art studio at this time of day, anyway, but she feared their judgment if someone did see her with mascara running down her face. With her head down, she scurried to the women's room to attempt to clean herself up a bit more. A few tissues later, she looked as presentable as she figured she was going to, but Maureen still knew that within a second, Summer would be able to see that something was wrong.

Maureen quickly gathered up her things from the studio she'd been holed up in and made her way back across campus to her dorm. She still kept her head down, her hair shielding her face from anyone who got close enough to see her when they passed. It was silly, she knew, but it felt like anyone who looked at her would be able to see exactly what she was going through.

To her relief, the dorm room door was unlocked, which meant Summer was inside. Maureen flung open the door and saw her roommate sitting on her bed, a bottle of nail polish in her hand as she diligently painted her toe nails. 

“Hey, Maur,” Summer said, then glanced up. “Oh, shit, Maur! What happened?”

Maureen couldn't help wincing a little at Summer's word choice. She didn't think she would ever get used to that sort of language. She had to laugh, though, as Summer abandoned her nail polish and let her still damp nails trail across their rug as she scurried to scoop her up into a hug.

“Are you alright?” Summer asked.

“I'm... no, I'm really not, at all.”

Summer pulled back and eyed Maureen. “What did Taylor do?” 

“How did you know it was...” Maureen trailed off. “He... he overdosed. He's going to be okay, I guess, but... I don't know, I called him and his brother answered and...”

A dozen emotions seemed to flash across Summer's face at the same time. Fear, anger, sadness, pity, maybe even regret. Maureen couldn't even imagine what it must be like to be one of Taylor's fans and hear this sort of news about him. It was a different sort of pain than her own, but a pain nonetheless. Finally, Summer's face seemed to settle on sadness alone.

“I'm so sorry, Maur...” Summer said, wrapping her up in a tight hug.

To Maureen's surprise, there was no judgment. There was no “I told you so.” She almost wished there was. She would have known how to deal with that. It would have been the only thing about the entire situation that was familiar, the only thing that made any sense to her at all.


	15. Running From The Demon In My Head

Taylor hated the way everyone treated him after one of his bad nights. That was the way everyone always referred to them-–his “bad nights.” Only Isaac called it what it really was. An overdose. Taylor knew Isaac didn't say it that way just to be accurate, though. There was always a hint of scorn in his voice when he said that word. Zac wouldn't talk about it, though, not even when he had been the one to find Taylor this latest time.

At least, that's what Isaac had told him. To be perfectly honest, Taylor couldn't remember a bit of it. He liked it better that way, though. The times when he was still fairly lucid through the hospital trips were the worst. But when he was blacked out? In his mind, that meant it really hadn't happened at all.

It was that justification that Taylor used when he checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice and informed everyone that yes, he would be going on with their concert that weekend.

It was only a promo show, anyway. They wouldn't even be playing a full set, and the same concert had already been canceled once that summer. Taylor doubted the promoters would enjoy rescheduling it again, and he didn't feel up to listening to Isaac explain to them that the cancellation was because of a certain keyboard player's coke habit. So the concert was on, Taylor decided, and he didn't care what anyone else thought.

Taylor had been in such a hurry to leave the hospital that he didn't even notice until the next day, backstage at the concert, that he was still wearing the hospital bracelet. He picked at it but couldn't budge it. In desperation, he lifted his wrist to his mouth and chewed on the paper, only barely managing to tear through it even with his teeth.

“What are you doing?”

Taylor glanced up and noticed that Zac was sitting on the couch across from him, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Trying to get this damn thing off,” Taylor replied. “Obviously.”

“You could use scissors.”

“I could. If I had a pair.”

Zac sighed. “Why did you do it, anyway?”

“I do lots of things. You're going to have to be more specific.”

Taylor didn't really know why he was being so short with Zac. Zac hadn't done anything in particular to piss him off, and he really wasn't even in a bad mood in general. He supposed he was probably still detoxing a little bit, even after a day or two hooked up to all those machines. He was always irritable coming down. Usually the others knew to keep their distance, but sometimes they were just in close quarters and it was inevitable that someone would annoy him before he was back to normal.

Not that he had any clue what _normal_ really felt like anymore, but for a few brief moments with Maureen, he thought he'd gotten close to it. Taylor had a feeling that was all over now, though.

“You know what I mean, Tay,” Zac replied, his voice a little softer, even though it was obvious that he was growing annoyed with Taylor, too.

“I felt like it,” Taylor replied. That was his go-to answer for just about anything. If he was enough of an asshole, everyone usually gave up and left him along. It didn't seem that tactic was working on Zac this time, though.

“You felt like killing yourself?”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “I'm here, aren't I? So, clearly, I did not kill myself.”

“But you tried to.”

“Zac,” Taylor said, turning his attention from the hospital bracelet that still wouldn't budge to his brother. “I tried to get high. Almost dying, which I really wasn't even that close to, was just an unfortunate side effect. It happens. But I'm fine now.”

Zac eyed Taylor critically, and Taylor gave him a look that he hoped told him not to question it. He _was_ okay, and he didn't know why no one could see that.

The fact that he had just overdosed on a little bit of everything wasn't lost on him, but it wasn't the first time and he doubted it would be the last. He'd let them talk him into staying in the hospital the first time, and it hadn't helped. He had walked out at the end of the “treatment” still craving that temporary escape. The therapist he'd been all but forced to see when they returned to Tulsa gave him no answers. Nothing and no one seemed able to help him; the only thing that could help him, it seemed, was more of what everyone thought was causing the problem.

“You look like the walking dead,” Zac pointed out. “And you smell.”

“I feel fine,” Taylor replied, choosing to ignore the remark on his hygiene. He could shower all he wanted, but that hospital smell would linger. He was fairly certain it was just burnt onto his skin by this point.

If he had been honest, though, he didn't feel fine at all. But he wasn't going to admit that, not to Zac or anyone else. He felt like absolute shit. He would only get an “I told you so” if he admitted it, though. Taylor doubted that after eight years of the same, this would be the one time they tried to understand where he was coming from and not jump straight to blaming him for being such a fuck up. He was very aware that he was a fuck up. He could feel that all the way down to his bones and he had a feeling he would for a few more days-–until the drugs were finally out of his system completely or replaced by new ones.

“I just don't see why you do it,” Zac continued. “I mean, you say you're fine, but you were in the _hospital_ , and again, you look like shit now. I know you're not fine.”

“Why do you smoke pot?” Taylor countered, knowing even as he said it that it wasn't much of an argument to make.

Zac rolled his eyes. “That's not even remotely the same thing. It's not even dangerous, it's the _only_ drug I've ever done and I don't even smoke that often. And as I recall, I tried it for the first time with you. So, what was your point?”

“I don't even remember,” Taylor admitted.

“I just wish you would admit you weren't okay,” Zac said, his voice soft and almost sympathetic, Taylor thought. “Maybe then you could start to _do_ something about it.”

Taylor could only wish it was that easy. He knew that to Zac, who was nearly always happy and cheerful, it must have seemed that easy. That being unhappy was something you could just decide not to be, and that was the end of it. Taylor knew better than that, though.

When Taylor didn't reply, Zac stood up and walked out of the green room, shaking his head as he went.

No one else could possibly understand what it was like to live in his skin, Taylor thought. Not that anyone had ever really tried, aside from that psychiatrist. There had been a time when he thought Natalie understood him and saw something in him that others didn't. But the things she saw were different from what Alex saw, and soon Taylor didn't know which of them was right. In the end, he supposed Alex had been. There was something awful and dark in him that just didn't deserve happiness. Taylor was certain of that now.

And he most definitely didn't deserve someone like Maureen.

Taylor supposed she had realized that, too. He didn't think she had even tried to call since they had parted ways in the airport. His phone hadn't shown any voicemails or texts from her. It had been the first thing he checked for when he was lucid enough to remember her. But then, he realized, he wouldn't really know if she had called while he was lying in the hospital. What if she had? Just as Taylor began to contemplate that possibility, Isaac walked into the room.

“Hey, Ike,” Taylor said. “Did I get any calls while I was... well, you know?”

Isaac blinked. “No, nothing important.”

“Oh,” Taylor replied. “Okay. Just wondering.”

There was something strange in Isaac's voice, but Taylor supposed he was telling the truth. After all, no call or message from Maureen was anywhere to be found in his phone. She really hadn't tried to contact him, Taylor realized.

Somehow, it only made him feel worse.

Whether or not she saw him for what he really was, it seemed obvious that she didn't want anything to do with whatever she _thought_ he was. Taylor wasn't sure if that was better or worse than any other possible s


	16. A Vague and Broken Boy Instead

Maureen hadn't really expected Taylor to call her back. His brother hadn't sounded very enthusiastic about passing along the message, and truthfully, she hadn't been all that sure she _wanted_ him to pass along the message. 

She never would have imagined that it was possible to miss him and never want to hear from him again at the same time, but that was exactly how she found herself feeling about Taylor.

A week had passed without a single word from Taylor, and while Maureen felt like that ought to have been long enough to get over him, she still missed him. She supposed it was the lack of closure; even if the questions she had for him were impossible for him to answer satisfactorily, she still wanted to ask them.

She and Summer hadn't really discussed Taylor very much in the week since they'd found out the truth about him. Maureen could see that Summer was upset, too, and probably wanted answers just as much as she did, but she didn't know how to approach the subject with her. If they talked about it for too long, Maureen feared that Summer would eventually remind her that she had known, to some extent, what to expect from him. The last thing Maureen wanted was that reminder.

As the days passed, her desire to call Taylor only grew. Maureen forced herself to wait, partially in hopes that he would finally call her, and partially because she didn't want to explain the call to Summer. Finally, when Summer made plans to go out to a party, Maureen decided it was her chance. With shaking hands, she pulled out her phone, found Taylor in her contacts and pressed call.

The phone rang and rang, and Maureen felt her heart drop. She hadn't checked to see if Taylor had a concert that night; what if he did and he didn't get her call at all? She wasn't sure she could ever muster up the courage to give it another try. Finally, though, it stopped ringing.

“Hello?”

His voice was raw and hoarse, but Maureen was certain it was Taylor. Her own voice failed her for a moment before she managed to choke out, “Umm, hi. It's Maureen?”

“Yeah... I know,” Taylor replied. “I just didn't really expect to hear from you.”

“Didn't your brother tell you I called? I mean, I told him it was fine if you didn't return the call, but...”

“No,” Taylor snapped, and it made Maureen jump. “No, he didn't tell me.”

“Oh... well, umm, I called.”

Taylor sighed. “Yeah. Umm, sorry, for snapping at you. Isaac just neglected to tell me about your call and I... well, I thought you didn't want to talk to me. And now I may need to kill him for causing me to think that.”

Maureen didn't feel the need to tell him that she truly _didn't_ want to talk to him. At least, she hadn't wanted to. The second she heard his voice, though, everything changed. He sounded different, but her feelings were the same as they had been. Even sounding weak and broken, he made butterflies stir in her stomach.

“Maureen, listen... I don't know what he told you. I didn't even know you talked to him.”

It wasn't an apology, she noticed, but she didn't know how to ask for one. She supposed if she had to ask, it wouldn't really be an apology at all. Clearing her throat, she said, “Yeah, I did. He umm... he said you were in the hospital. And that you... you...”

She couldn't say it. She just couldn't.

“I overdosed,” Taylor said, his voice sounding empty and hollow. “I'm not going to lie to you. I did.”

Maureen hadn't expected that. She hated herself for it, but she truly hadn't expected honesty from him. She didn't know what sort of angle he might be playing by being so frank with her. Maybe it wasn't an angle at all. She just didn't know.

“Maureen?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I'm still here. I'm just... kinda shocked, I guess.”

“I can understand that,” Taylor replied. “Look, I know... I know it must seem like I lied to you when I tried to convince you I wasn't what people say I am. But I think you saw that I _can_ be a good guy, didn't you?”

He sounded desperate, Maureen thought. Desperate to cling to the hope that she did in fact believe he could be a good guy. It was hard for her to continue believing that he could be, but she had seen it, hadn't she? 

“I... I don't know, Taylor,” she replied. “You were nice to me, but... well, you weren't at first. And this... this overdose thing...”

“I know, baby. I know it's a lot to try to understand and I don't know how to make it easier for you.”

Maureen bristled a little at the word _baby_ , but a tiny little part of her was melting, too. “Can you just... can you _try_ to make me understand?”

There was a long pause and Maureen was beginning to think that Taylor wasn't going to answer at all.

“I really don't know how...” he sighed out. “It's just... it was a mistake. Those happen.”

“Was it... was it the overdosing that was the mistake or the getting high?”

“The overdosing.”

Maureen gulped. “So you meant to...” 

“Get high, yes,” Taylor replied. “I meant to... forget. To not feel anything for a while.”

“I guess I can understand that desire, but does that really require... drugs?”

“Sometimes it does,” he said, and Maureen was struck by how bitter and jaded he sounded. It made her shiver.

“I don't think I'll ever understand that,” Maureen admitted.

“I'm not asking you to understand,” Taylor said. “I just don't want you to think this means I'm a bad person. I'm still the same Taylor you thought I was. I really am.”

He didn't sound like the same Taylor, but Maureen supposed that in a way, he was. Just because she hadn't known that he did drugs... well, it was still a fact, wasn't it? Knowing it didn't change _him_ ; it only changed the way she saw him. So why couldn't her opinion be changed again? It was a lot to think about, and she didn't have any answers for herself.

“I think... I mean, I suppose you are the same Taylor. It's just a lot to take in,” Maureen replied.

“I know,” he said. “And I would understand if you didn't... well, I mean, if I were you, I probably wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore.”

“No!” Maureen cried out, surprising even herself. “I mean, I wouldn't say that. I just need some time to think and figure out how I feel about all of this.”

Taylor heaved a sigh that, to Maureen, seemed to be filled with relief. “That's... that's totally reasonable of you. Really. Thank you.”

“I'm not saying we can go back to the way things were before,” Maureen replied, choosing her words carefully. “But I think... I don't know. I don't know how to handle this, Tay. It's going to take a lot of time and a lot of thinking.”

“I understand,” he said. “But it just means a lot that you're willing to do that for me. For us.”

Maureen heaved a sigh of her own. “I may not know a lot about this sort of thing, but I know... I know I can't ask you to change for me. I can't ask you-–or tell you-–to stop.”

“You want to ask me to, though, don't you?”

Maureen chewed her lip nervously for a moment, unsure if she should answer that question truthfully. After a moment, she decided that she had to. “Well, yeah. Of course I don't want you to do drugs, Taylor.”

“Of course not,” he replied softly. “It's just... it's not that simple. It's not like it's something I do all the time, anyway. I know the overdose thing sounds bad, but... honestly, Maureen, I'm usually much more in control of myself. I just got really down that night and made a mistake.”

“I get the feeling that's supposed to make me feel better, but it really doesn't.”

Taylor sighed. “I know. I'm sorry, I know it all just sounds like excuses to you.”

“It sounds like I'm in way over my head,” Maureen replied. “Can I ask you something, though? Not... not to stop. I just want to know something.”

“Of course. You can always ask me anything. You should know that.”

There was something strange in his voice, but Maureen chose to believe him. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “When you were with me... were you high then? Or when we talked on the phone? Sorry, I know that's technically two questions.”

“The answers are both no,” Taylor replied. “Believe me. I didn't... _need_ to be high when I was with you. You were enough. It's only when I'm alone that I start getting depressed like that.”

“So, try not to be alone?” Maureen offered, laughing softly as she said it. “That's a really stupid, simple suggestion, I know.”

“If only it were that easy,” Taylor replied, that bitter tone that shook Maureen to the core returning to his voice.

Maureen sighed. “That's the best advice I've got, I'm afraid.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Taylor said, his voice softening a little. “I'll be fine, though. Talking to you again helps more than you know. I feel normal when I talk to you.”

“Normal?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “We're so different, but the fact that we can talk... find some common ground... reminds me that I'm not so strange. I mean, I don't exactly have a normal life, you know? But when I talk to you... I can forget about all of that. Most of the time, anyway. So... it helps.”

“I think I get what you're saying,” Maureen replied somewhat dishonestly. To an extent, she did understand, but what she understood scared her.

Taylor sighed. “Unfortunately, as much as I would like to keep talking to you all night, I have to get up disgustingly early tomorrow so we can drive to the next show. So I think I should probably let you go...”

“Okay,” she replied. “I didn't really expect to talk to you for this long, anyway.”

“I didn't expect to talk to you at all. And I've got my wonderful older brother to thank for that.”

“Well, you did really scare me,” Maureen admitted. “I wasn't all that sure what I really had to say to you anymore.”

“Understandable. But I'm the same guy, right? Don't I sound like the same guy?”

“Yes,” Maureen lied. “You are. You do.”

“Good,” he said. “So I'll talk you soon, right? I can call you?”

Maureen swallowed hard. “Yeah. You can call me.”

“Great,” Taylor replied. “Goodnight, Maureen.”

“Goodnight, Taylor.”

As she hung up her phone and laid back in her bed, Maureen could only hope she hadn't made a huge mistake in letting Taylor back into her life.


	17. Burning Bridges Won't Come Down

When Taylor ended his call with Maureen, he was feeling a dozen different emotions at once, but he was too tired to do anything about most of them. The most pressing one, he decided, was anger with Isaac for telling him that no one had called. He had lost a week with Maureen and he was amazed that after having that long to think about what he had done, she still wanted him in her life.

Still, he knew his relationship with her had been damaged and he couldn't help blaming Isaac for it, even when he knew his brother only bore a tiny part of the blame.

Nothing he had said to Maureen had been a lie, though, and for that Taylor was quite proud of himself. The fact that he was able to be truthful with her-–even if he didn't tell her the _entire_ truth-–meant a lot, he thought. It meant a lot to her, he could tell, and it meant a lot to him, too. It meant she was worth fighting for, if he already felt so obligated to be honest with her. It meant she was _different_.

It also meant that he was probably going to hurt her even more, but he tried to ignore the part of his brain that kept reminding him of that.

With her voice, as timid and scared as it had been, echoing in his mind, he was able to sleep rather peacefully that night. But in the morning, everything that had happened came crashing down on him again, and his anger boiled up. His need to yell at Isaac was almost a physical thing, an itch under his skin that he could only liken to the feeling he got when he needed another hit of something. It scared him, but he couldn't make it go away without taking some sort of action. Taylor was pretty sure that yelling at Isaac wasn't as hazardous as doing another line, anyway.

Taylor stomped through the hotel to the bus that morning, each step that brought him closer to Isaac only increasing his anger. When he stepped on the bus, he was pleased to see that someone-–he guessed Zac, who always tread lightly after the bad nights-–had bought him a coffee. As he picked up the cup with his name on it and took a big sip, his anger faded a little. It came back in full force when the bus door opened and revealed Isaac.

“Ike,” Taylor said. “Why didn't you tell me Maureen called?”

“Who?” Isaac replied, blinking. His face seemed completely blank, but Taylor didn't buy the innocent act.

“My girlfriend. She said she called and talked to you while I was in the hospital. But you told me no one called.”

“Oh,” Isaac replied, his face still quite blank. “I guess I forgot. Well, she said it wasn't important, anyway.”

“And that's why you erased the call?”

Isaac rolled his eyes. “Obviously it was a mistake. What's the big deal, anyway? I'm sure you've got five or ten other girlfriends. What's the big deal with this one?”

“I _do not_ have five or ten other girlfriends,” Taylor replied, snarling. He could feel his blood boiling even more, but he knew he shouldn't have been surprised by what Isaac said. With a sigh, he added, “She's just... she's just different, alright?”

“Like Natalie was different? And that worked out so well for you.”

Taylor's eyes widened. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I just mean...” Isaac sighed. “Well, she sounded pretty sweet. And also like she has no clue who the hell she's getting involved with. Maybe I did her a favor by not telling you she called.”

“And maybe you screwed things up even worse. It wasn't your call to make.”

“Maybe not,” Isaac replied. “Whatever, it's your life to fuck up.”

With that, Isaac walked away to toss his bag into his bunk. Taylor stared at him as he retreated, tempted to chase after him and punch him. Isaac had no right, Taylor thought, absolutely no right to decide what was best for Maureen. That was up to her to decide, and right then, she seemed to have decided to trust Taylor. He didn't really understand why, and he probably didn't deserve her trust, but for some reason, she'd given it. 

_Maybe Isaac is right, though..._

Taylor hated himself for thinking it, but once the thought planted itself in his brain, it was there to stay. He truly didn't understand why Maureen would let him back into her life after what he had done. After all, hadn't he proven himself to be everything he had hoped she would see past? Everything he wanted _not_ to be because of her? Taylor didn't know what she could possibly see in him after that. Maybe Isaac had nearly helped her dodge a bullet, and she just didn't see it.

Taylor was afraid of what he might do to help her see the bullet.

****

Isaac's words stayed with Taylor for the rest of the day, just as he suspected they would. No matter what he did, he could think of nothing else but the inevitability that he would ruin everything with Maureen. He would hurt her, and he would lose her. If Isaac saw it, then everyone must see it, Taylor decided. It must be true.

Somehow, he made it through the day relatively unscathed, despite the fact that his mind was still clouded with horrible thoughts. He couldn't really remember a single thing about it – from the drive to San Diego to the radio promo show, it was all a blur in his mind. It hardly seemed to matter; he could operate well enough on autopilot, even when sober. No one seemed to notice the difference. If they did, they didn't call him out on it.

Taylor vaguely remembered arriving and checking into the hotel, then leaving again. He must have slipped away from Isaac at some point, because he was sure his brother wouldn't have approved of him going out. Taylor vaguely recalled some of the guys in the crew asking him to accompany them bar hopping, but the rest was lost in all the shots he'd downed since the question was raised. There had really been no doubt that he would accompany them, Taylor thought. He didn't know why they even bothered to _ask_. If there was a party, he was going to be there. It was a given.

Taylor was certain that there was a good reason for him _not_ to have gone out that night, but this far into it, he really couldn't remember. Maybe three drinks ago he could have brought the reason to mind, but it was long gone.

A strange thing happened when Taylor was at parties; people just _gave_ him things. He first noticed this phenomenon years ago and attributed it to the fame. People were just so eager to please celebrities, to do anything that would bring them a little closer to fame. Now he supposed it was just his charisma, just something in his attitude that made people want to do whatever they could for him. Whatever it was, he liked it.

That night, it came in the form of a few little white pills that a girl had slipped him after he'd attempted to dance with her for two songs. He was really too far gone for it to be more than an attempt, but she seemed happy enough with him just standing there swaying a little while she did all the work. Taylor supposed those pills, whatever the hell they contained, were his prize for letting her show off her dance moves. Whatever the reason, he couldn't resist the urge to try them on for size. After parting ways with the girl whose name he hadn't even gotten, he made his way back to the table a few of the crew guys were still holding up and quickly slipped the pills into his mouth while they weren't looking. A swig of his drink that was little more than rum flavored ice cubes at this point and the pills were gone.

The pills took effect quickly, pushing him from pleasantly warm and fuzzy to utterly fucked up. Suddenly, he was burning up and he had to get outside to escape it. He pushed and wiggled his way through the crowd until he found the door. He waved his stamped hand in the general vicinity of the bouncer's face, although he was certain that he had no desire to go back into the boiler room of a club.

Outside didn't feel much better. Taylor still couldn't breathe. The whole world seemed to be closing in around him. He didn't know what to do to fix it. He didn't have any other drugs he could try to level himself out with, and anyway, he remembered how well that _hadn't_ worked for him the last time. Maybe he just needed to ride this high out and it would be okay.

He leaned back against the wall of the building and took a deep breath. Just a few minutes, Taylor told himself. Just a few minutes and this would pass and leave him feeling better. He had no sense of time, though. He could have waited hours or only seconds; they seemed to be exactly the same thing to him right then. Taylor wondered when he'd left the club. He couldn't remember, but he pulled out his phone to check the time, anyway. 

The bright glow of the phone's screen surprised him, and he couldn't remember why he'd gotten it out of his pocket. It was for something important, Taylor was sure. Did he need to call someone? Maybe he needed to call someone. He willed his fingers to obey him and slowly scrolled through his recent calls, hoping to jog his memory. One name stuck out, and he pressed the button to call her back.


	18. Make You See The Dying In Your Eyes

Maureen was pulled from sleep by the loud ringing of her phone. She didn't know how long it had been ringing before her mind finally registered the sound, but she had a feeling it had been quite some time. She glanced at the bed across the room—no Summer. She vaguely recalled that Summer had gone to some party. Maureen could only assume it was Summer on the other end of the phone, calling to see if her best friend would come rescue her from some drunk frat boy or something. 

Dreading the conversation that would ensue, but knowing she couldn't avoid it, Maureen dove for the spot on the headboard where her phone usually rested. She pulled it to her ear, flipping it open to answer the call without looking at the screen first.

“I was asleep, Summer...” she mumbled into the phone.

“Summer?” a male voice on the other end said. “I'm not... this is Taylor...”

At his name, Maureen awoke in an instant. She shot up in the bed, a hand instinctively flying into her hair. “Taylor?! Do you know how late it is?”

“Oh, is it? I guess so... you're not in the same time zone as me...”

His words were slurred together, and Maureen wondered if he had been asleep, too. Did Taylor sleepwalk? For all she knew, he was calling her in his sleep. That didn't seem entirely plausible, though. There was a nagging feeling of dread in her stomach, and the loud background noises she heard on the line served to confirm her fears.

“Taylor... where are you?”

“Umm... California. Somewhere. Fuck if I know, 'm somewhere.”

And, Maureen decided, he was _drunk_. Or high. She didn't really know the difference; all she was certain of was that Taylor was not in his right mind.

“I'm sure you are,” Maureen replied wryly. Trying to keep her voice as calm and even as she possibly could, she asked, “Taylor... are you in a bar? Or a club, a party, something like that?”

“Nope.”

Maureen heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe she had underestimated him and thought the worst for no good reason.

“'M _outside_ a club.”

Her stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor and her phone nearly fell out her hand in the same general direction. Maureen's entire body was shaking when she replied, “Taylor. You... you went out drinking?”

“Mhm... we do that a lot on our nights off... and after shows...”

“And don't you think maybe that's a bad idea?”

“Seemed like a good idea,” he replied, Maureen swore she could almost _hear_ his pout. “At least, 'til I took those pills... dunno what they were, Maur, but... fuck.”

She winced at his choice and words, and the nickname he'd so casually thrown out. This wasn't Taylor. This wasn't the boy she felt comfortable being that familiar with. This was someone else entirely, and she didn't want to talk to him, but she found herself unable to put the phone down. It was like watching a car accident in slow motion, she thought.

“You took pills, but you don't know what they were?”

“I figured it was X or somethin'... dunno... 's never really felt like this before. Don't like it.”

Maureen only had the vaguest idea what “X” actually was, but she didn't think it was really the time to ask that sort of questions of Taylor. She supposed she could ask Summer about it later, but she didn't really want to tell Summer all the sordid details of what Taylor did. Looking it up online seemed like her best bet. She had a feeling she would be doing a lot of unpleasant research after this conversation.

“...not really nice to just refuse when someone gives it to ya, ya know? I mean... what could I say?”

She vaguely realized that Taylor was talking, but the words were so mixed together that she could only pick out the vaguest of actual narratives in whatever story he was trying to tell. Maureen thought better of asking him to go back to the beginning and start over. She highly doubted he would even be able to.

“Taylor,” she interjected. “Are you... are you okay?”

“Yeah... I mean, I will be. Probably. Gonna suck coming down though, if it's this bad right now...”

“You're not alone, are you?”

“Ike's here... somewhere... some of the crew... haven't seem 'em for a while, though.”

Maureen sighed. “Don't you think you should go find them instead of talking to me?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he replied, his voice soft and almost sweet. He almost sounded like himself, Maureen thought.

“But why right now?” She asked. “Why not when you're sober?”

“You'd like that better, wouldn't you?”

Maureen sighed. “Yeah, I really would, Taylor.”

“Sorry...”

He did sound genuinely sorry. Maureen had to admit that. Still, she wasn't sure that it was enough for her to forgive him.

“Fuck... why is it so hot here, Maur? Someone needs to turn down the heat in this city...”

Whatever small amount of forgiveness she had felt a moment ago, it faded away. Maureen's hand trembled, barely managing to keep its grip on her phone. “Taylor... I don't... I don't know what to tell you. I mean, it's the pills, isn't it? Making you feel that way?”

“Probably... or the alcohol... or the combi... combination of the two...”

His speech was getting worse. Maureen wondered if he could be overdosing again, but she knew there was no way for her to tell. Maybe there was no way for Taylor to tell, either.

“Listen, I think maybe... maybe you should find some of your people, okay? You shouldn't be alone right now.”

“Not alone,” Taylor replied indignantly, like a child. “Got you, don't I?”

Maureen's stomach dropped again. “No, you're _talking_ to me, but I'm hundreds of miles away... I can't help you if something's wrong.”

“Nothin's wrong. Why would you think that?”

“Because you're drunk and high, Taylor!” Maureen couldn't stop herself from snapping at him, even though she immediately regretted it. She knew she shouldn't expect any sort of logic from him right then.

“Maur, I'm _fine_ ,” Taylor replied. “Told you... jus' a stupid mistake before... 'm fine now...”

“You're not fine! You can barely string together a full sentence. Nothing about you sounds find right now.”

“Well, 'm not fucking overdosing. Jus'... jus' a bad trip.”

“And you're going to just keep doing it, aren't you?” Maureen snapped, knowing that she already knew the answer.

“Not those pills again... not if I can avoid 'em...”

“That,” Maureen replied, trying to slow her breathing before she broken down, “is not what I meant. You're just going to keep partying and... getting high and drunk...”

“Seems that way, yeah...”

“Taylor.”

“Yeah?”

Maureen took a deep breath. “You need to hang up, and go find Isaac or someone and just stay with them. And don't... don't do anything else, okay? Not even another drink.”

“'Kay, Mom.”

“I'm flattered that you think I sound like I care that much about you, Taylor. So why don't you please do what I say?” Maureen gasped after she said it, surprised that she had been so bold. It was the anger boiling up inside of her, she decided, that allowed such bold words to fall from her lips.

“Yeah, whatever...”

That did nothing to quell Maureen's anger. “You know what? Fine, Taylor. _Don't_ do what I say. Just... please hang up. After that, you can do whatever you want.”

“Maur, no... I wanna talk to you...”

“Well, I don't want to talk to you,” Maureen replied, her lip quivering. “Not when you're like this. And... and maybe not ever, if this is going to keep happening. You've pretty much assured me that it will.”

“Are you... are you breakin' up with me?” Taylor asked.

“I think I am,” Maureen replied, not even trying to fight the tears that began to spill down her cheeks.

“You coulda at least waited 'til I came down...”

“Taylor, if you ever actually _do_ sober up, things would be so, so much different. But I can't... I can't do this. Not knowing if you're sober or high o-or... I just can't do this. Maybe when you come down, you'll understand.”

Taylor sighed. “Maybe I will... you're pretty smart, Maur.”

“Thanks,” she replied, the nickname making her shudder. “Will you please hang up now?”

“Yeah... bye, Maureen.”

His voice was so soft that she almost didn't hear him at all, but the sudden silence on the line told her that he had indeed ended the call. She sat her phone back on its perch and crumpled into a heap on her bed, no longer trying to fight the sobs that overtook her. 

She had wanted so badly to believe that there was something good in Taylor, something that would make dealing with his problems worth it. But whatever it was, it was impossible to see when he was an incoherent, slurring mess on the other end of the phone, not even seeming to care how she might feel about talking to him when he was that way.

Maureen couldn't do it.

She couldn't hang onto him and hope that he got better. She couldn't wait for him to change. She couldn't hope that he ever _would_ change. 

Maureen saw then, as she lay on her bed crying, that she could not be with Taylor, no matter how much she wanted to be or how much it hurt to let him go.


	19. I Belong To The Hurricane

Taylor rolled over and groaned. He didn't remember much about the night before, but he had a feeling, from the ache that ran all the way from his head to his feet, it had been a late night. He vaguely recalled going out to a bar, which he knew his brothers totally disapproved of, but Isaac had gone, too. He had kept him in line, Taylor was sure. He seemed to think that was his job.

It wasn't easy to get himself up and going when his body felt that awful. After several minutes, he managed to pry himself from the bed and drag himself to the bathroom for a quick shower. That got rid of the lingering stench of alcohol and cigarettes, at least, even if it did little for the aches and pains running through his body. A few aspirins courtesy of the hotel would go a short distance toward fixing that, he decided, and swallowed them down without even a sip of water. 

Once he was dressed and vaguely presentable, he made his way down to the hotel lobby and wandered around until he found the little coffee shop he thought he remembered seeing when they checked in the day before. Sure enough, it was still there, and there wasn't much of a line at the register. It wasn't long at all before Taylor was clutching a steaming latte—his first caffeine of the day. According to the large clock on the cafe wall, it was already lunch time, so he threw in a scone with his drink. It wasn't much of a meal, but it would have to do. Taylor reasoned that the caffeine would wake him up and the carbs in the scone would take care of the slightly queasy, drunken feeling that still seemed to be lingering.

He sat down in one of the coffee shop's few tables to enjoy his “meal” and decided that he ought to give Maureen a call. It had been a day or two since they had spoken, and he knew their relationship was on rocky ground, but he felt like it was good to keep checking in with her. If he kept treating her the same way, maybe she would eventually see that he was the person she had thought he was and not some horrible drug addict.

With his mind made up, Taylor sat his scone down and pulled his phone from his pocket. Maureen's number was in his favorites so it only took him a matter of seconds to dial it. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table as it rang. He figured she would be out of class and eating lunch, but he didn't really know her schedule that well. Maybe she was still in class. When her phone went to voicemail, he assumed she was just busy and would surely call him back later. After the beep, he took a deep breath and left a message.

“Hey, Maur. It's me... Taylor. Umm, just wanted to check in and see how you were. I guess you're busy right now, so just call me back whenever you get a chance. Bye.”

As he ended the call and stuck his phone back in his pocket, a strange sense of paranoia came over him. He couldn't help feeling like maybe Maureen had avoided his call. That was a strange thing to think, though. Taylor couldn't imagine any reason why she would. Still, he couldn't quite shake the thought.

****

Taylor felt like a zombie for most of the day, just wandering aimlessly through his routine and ticking off the minutes and hours that passed without a return call from Maureen. He gave her the benefit of the doubt and waited almost all day on the chance that she was just busy. When she still hadn't called him by the time the band had finished soundcheck, he decided it wouldn't hurt to call her again.

He wandered around backstage until he found a quiet spot to hide, which wasn't exactly easy to find in a loud, busy music venue. Once he had closed the door behind him, Taylor pulled out his phone and dialed Maureen's number again. He paced the small dressing room impatiently as he waited for her to answer.

“Hello?”

Taylor let out a sigh of relief. “Maureen... I was worried I wasn't going to hear from you today. Didn't you get my message earlier?”

“I did,” she replied, and Taylor thought her voice sounded kind of strange.

“Is something wrong?”

“Taylor, why did you call?”

He frowned. “Umm... because I wanted to talk to you?”

“Yeah, I figured. So it doesn't matter that I don't want to talk to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Taylor asked, his heart beating rapidly. He now realized Maureen was angry with him, but he didn't know why.

“Y-you... you don't remember, do you?”

“Remember _what_?”

Maureen made a tiny sound that Taylor thought might have been a sob. “Last night, Taylor. You called me and you were... completely out of your mind.”

Taylor felt ill. He had wanted so badly to keep that part of his life away from Maureen, to prove that he was different, but obviously his drunken self had had other plans. “Maur... I honestly don't remember calling you at all.”

“That doesn't make it any better.”

“I know,” Taylor replied, sighing. “I just... I hope I didn't say or do anything awful.”

Maureen sighed. “You could have been a lot worse, I suppose. But it's just something I really can't deal with. I can't worry that you're going to keep calling me when you're too drunk or high or both to even remember it the next day. And if you can't remember calling me, what else are you doing that you don't remember?”

“I... I don't know,” Taylor practically whispered. He had no good answer for her. Everything Maureen said was completely reasonable, and he knew it, but it didn't make him feel any better.

“Well, I can't keep doing this and just... just living with that uncertainty.”

“So you're breaking up with me?” Taylor asked. He was fairly certain it was the first time he had ever used those words, and he really didn't feel like dealing with the implications of that while he was still on the phone with Maureen.

“I broke up with you last night,” Maureen replied. “You just don't remember it.”

Taylor fell back against the door. “Oh... I. I guess you're upset that I called you, then.”

“Just a little bit,” Maureen said, her voice low. “I'm just... really confused, Taylor. But I know that I just _can't_ do this.”

“I understand,” Taylor replied, though only a small part of him really did. “I'll let you go now. Bye, Maureen.”

“Bye, Taylor.”

Even if he had wanted to say something else, the line went dead before he had the chance. Taylor slumped further against the wall. He knew this was his fault, even if he couldn't actually remember what he had done or said. That was the point, though, wasn't it? It made him look untrustworthy to her. _He_ knew he was trustworthy. _He_ knew he could do this. He just couldn't seem to prove that to Maureen. Her mind was obviously made up, and there was nothing else Taylor could say to change it.

He started to drop his phone back into his pocket, but something stopped him. He scrolled mindlessly through his contacts, unsure what he was really looking for. There were dozens of names he could call who would only help him to prove to Maureen that he really was as horrible as she thought. Taylor supposed it didn't really matter, though. She had decided it was over. Whatever he did after that wouldn't matter at all; she wouldn't even know.

With his mind made up, he scrolled down until he found the name he was looking for. After a few rings, a voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Justin, umm... it's Taylor. You're still in San Diego, right?”

There was a pause and some muffled voices on the other end before Justin replied, “Yeah, yeah. I am. Why, are you around?”

“Yeah, I was kinda hoping you might have time to stop by the House of Blues tonight, like around 11? Not until after the show, of course.”

“Of course,” Justin replied with a chuckle. “Can't put on a show like that, can you? How much do you need?”

“Just... enough. Enough to last for a while. Maybe the rest of the tour.”

There was a little more muffled talking and then Justin said, “Yeah, alright. I'll pull a few strings and see how much I can bring. I know money's no issue.”

“Thanks,” Taylor replied, letting out a relieved sigh. “I really appreciate it.”

After working out a few more details—when to meet, where, etc—Taylor ended the call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. He let out another sigh and leaned back against the door. If this was a mistake, he really couldn't see how. With Maureen out of his life, he didn't really think he had much else to lose. He would just prove to everyone that he really was the fuckup they thought he was.


	20. So Far From Where I Started

Maureen would never have admitted it, but there was a tiny part of her that hoped Taylor would keep calling her even after she told him to stop. There was an even bigger part of her that was surprised he hadn't—surprised, and perhaps just a little bit disappointed.

Life went on without him, though, as she knew it would.

Nearly a month passed, and she couldn't help counting the days. If she hadn't had Summer looking over her shoulder constantly, she probably would have marked the days on her calendar. That was a step too far, Maureen decided. She couldn't count the days without Taylor forever. At some point soon, she hoped, her mind would stop its endless reminders of how long it had been.

In order to stop her mind, or at least attempt to distract it, Maureen threw herself into her classwork like never before. She had always been a good student, but working extra hard served to keep her mind so busy that she didn't have time to sit and let her thoughts drift to Taylor. Midterms were coming up soon, anyway, and that was another good excuse to work harder. All of her art professors had assigned huge projects in place of exams, and all of her other classes had long exams that required hours and hours of studying.

Her first exam was in a history class that she really wished she hadn't put off for so long. The class was mostly filled with freshmen, which made Maureen feel especially dumb for doing so poorly on the first few tests and quizzes. She'd had history classes in her few short stays in public school, of course, but so little of it seemed to stick in her mind, especially the parts that didn't mesh with her father's world vision. Maureen had worked hard to learn that there was more to the world than what he read to her from the Bible, but there were still such huge gaps in her knowledge. No amount of intelligence, as that one guidance counselor had assured her she had, could fix that.

The midterm was predictably brutal in ways no amount of studying could possibly prepare Maureen for. She left the classroom positive that it would be a miracle if she even passed. She could already guess that Summer would just shrug it off and remind her that the final exam counted for more toward the final grade, and even if she failed it, she could always retake the class. Summer was like that, though; she had the money to throw around without worrying how long it would take to pass all the necessary classes. Maureen didn't have it so lucky. If she didn't pass this class the first time around, she was going to be in trouble.

Luckily, that was her last class of the day. She could spend the rest of the afternoon in her dorm room, studying for the other, hopefully less brutal, exams. Only the thought of being finally done for the day allowed Maureen to relax a little as she began the walk back to her dorm.

She hadn't made it very far when her phone began to vibrate in her backpack. It was still on silent due to class, but the vibrations were loud enough that she still knew it was ringing. She fished it out and glanced at the screen. It wasn't a number that she knew, but the area code looked familiar. After staring at it for a moment, Maureen realized it was Taylor's area code. Her heart skipped a beat; was Taylor calling her? It wasn't his number, though. What if it was one of his brothers? What if something had happened to him?

In all of her worrying, the phone stopped ringing. Her heart dropped. The phone immediately started ringing again and Maureen flipped it open quickly. She had a feeling the call could only be bringing bad news, but she had to hear it.

“Hello?”

“Maureen? Is that you?”

It wasn't Taylor. It wasn't anyone related to Taylor. Even though she hadn't heard that voice in over three years, Maureen instantly recognized it as belonging to her mother.

Her throat felt like it was closing up, but Maureen somehow managed to choke out, “Yeah. Umm, yes, it's me.”

“Oh, honey... you sound so different.”

Maureen sank down onto the nearest bench, ignoring the angry glare she received from the guy she'd almost knocked over to get to it. “What... I mean... how did you even find me?”

“Well, you see...” her mother began, then cleared her throat. “Well, this one woman in the church, she has a computer and I don't know how she did it, but when I told her you'd gone to Chicago, I thought, she managed to find you, and this number.”

She made a mental note to delete her Facebook as soon as she got back to the dorm. Maureen didn't know why she'd let Summer set the account up for her in the first place; it wasn't like she needed the reminder that she had no friends. 

“Honey? Are you still there?”

Maureen sighed. “Yeah... I'm still here. Did you, umm... was there a reason why you wanted to find me?”

At that, her mother broke down into tears. Even through their poor phone connection, Maureen could clearly hear the sobs. That wasn't a good sign, she decided. Yet she felt oddly numb—no sense of worry or fear at all.

“It's... it's your father, Maureen. He collapsed yesterday, and I know he didn't want me to do it, but I had to call an ambulance... now they're saying he might not make it much longer...”

The news should have shocked Maureen into feeling something, but it didn't. Her mother's sobs, regardless of the cause, did hurt to hear, though. Maureen sighed and said what she knew she was supposed to say. “I'm... I'm really sorry, Mom.”

“Can you come home, sweetie? Your father... he woke up for just a few minutes earlier, and he said your name.”

Maureen highly doubted that meant he wanted to see her, but she didn't dare point that out to her mother. With another sigh, she replied, “Well... my fall break starts in two days. I can try to find a way there, but I can't guarantee anything.”

She didn't even know why she was offering that much. It was more than she thought her father would have done for her after her betrayal.

“It would mean a lot to us... well, especially to me... if you could,” her mother replied.

“I know,” Maureen said, even though she truly found it hard to believe that either of her parents wanted to see her.

“It's true,” her mother continued. “This could... this could be the end, Maureen. I know he was... unhappy when you left, but your father only wants what's best for you. The two of you just... disagree about what that is.”

Maureen wondered if her mother had her own opinion about what was best, or if she just went along with whatever Father wanted. She didn't have it in her to ask, though.

“Are... are you doing well in college?” 

“Yeah,” Maureen replied, surprised that her mother wanted to know. “Well, in most of my classes.”

“You always did well in school.” Her mother's voice was soft, so soft that Maureen almost didn't hear her words, but she could still hear the pride behind them.

It surprised her. She was beginning to wonder if she had ever really known her mother at all. Without her father to hide behind, she seemed to be a different, stronger woman. Maureen wished she could have seen that side of her years ago. Maybe things would have been different if she had.

“So you'll come home? Just for the weekend, if you can.”

Maureen sighed. “Yeah... yeah, I'll come. Where is home now?”

“Sapulpa, Oklahoma,” her mother replied.

That explained why the area code was the same as Taylor's, Maureen thought. She dreaded finding out how close Sapulpa was to Tulsa. Maybe not at all. It didn't matter anyway, she supposed, not while Taylor was still on tour.

“Okay,” Maureen said. “I'll try to find a way to get there.”

“Thank you so much, sweetie,” she replied. “I'll see you soon. Bye.”

“Bye, Mom.”

Maureen closed her phone and slipped it back into her purse. She remained on the bench for a few moments longer, trying to catch her breath. It was the first time in three years that she had spoken to her mother, and Maureen was surprised that she hadn't seemed angry with her. She wasn't surprised that the only reason for the call was her father's health. If nothing had gone wrong, Maureen didn't think she would have _ever_ heard from either parent again. She understood that. She was fine with that. She didn't know how to feel about going to see them, though, but she found that she couldn't refuse her mother's request.

It was horrible, Maureen knew, but she couldn't help hoping that there was simply no way for her to get to Oklahoma. That would make it much easier to disappoint her mother. If the choice was out of her hands entirely, Maureen wouldn't need to feel guilty for it. She had a feeling she would feel guilty anyway, though.

When Maureen finally made it back to the dorm room, she found it empty. That was a relief; at least she had some time before she needed to tell Summer about the phone call. She flung her backpack onto her bed and collapsed into her desk chair, deciding that she might as well look up bus tickets as soon as possible. 

It didn't take long for her to discover that not only was Sapulpa near Tulsa, it was practically _in_ Tulsa. The chances of running into Taylor, even if he was there, were pretty slim, but the thought of it still made Maureen feel sick to her stomach. There were no bus stations in Sapulpa, she also learned. She would have to find a taxi or something in Tulsa or perhaps someone from her parents' church had a car and could pick her up from the bus station. 

The biggest problem, however, was the ticket price. Two hundred and eighty dollars, round trip.

Maureen slammed her head down onto her desk just as Summer burst through the door.

“What's wrong? Exams going that badly?”

Maureen raised up slowly and shook her head. “No. It's just... ugh, family.”

“Family?” Summer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Somehow... my mom found me. She called, and I guess my dad is really sick. I don't know why, but I agreed to come visit over fall break if I could find a way there, but these bus tickets are really expensive. I'd forgotten how much I had to save up to get here in the first place. I'm sure flights would be even worse...”

Summer nodded sympathetically, then sat down in the chair next to her and opened her purse. “Alright. If you really want to go... how much do you need?”

Maureen stared dumbly at her roommate. “Y-you... you can't do that.”

“I'm only going to if you tell me it's what you really want to do,” Summer said. “But, if it is, then yes, I can. You'll pay me back what you can, eventually. Or you won't. We can call it a gift.”

“I think I definitely _should_ go, so...” Maureen said, then sighed. “I'm only going to let you give me half. And only because you insist.”

Summer smiled and opened her wallet, flashing her credit card. “Alright. I think we've got a deal.”

Maureen sighed again, and turned her laptop toward Summer. As her roommate purchased the tickets, she leaned back in her chair and tried to relax. Maureen knew she could never really return home, because she hadn't _had_ just one home. But she had never expected to return to her parents at all. She reminded herself that it was just for the weekend. She wasn't going back to that life. There might have been parts of her new life that she wanted to run from, but she knew she could never go back for good.


	21. The Way You Wished I Would

The trip to Oklahoma came far sooner than Maureen would have liked, but she knew there was no delaying it. She had promised her mother she would try to find a way, and Summer had been all too helpful in getting her there.

Like all the other towns her father chose to settle in, Sapulpa was small—too small to have its own bus station. Maureen kept her head down as she walked through the bus station in Tulsa, even though logic told her there was little to no chance of running into Taylor. Even if he was in town, why would he be in a bus station? Still, she didn't dare look around for fear that he would be right there in front of her.

She couldn't bear the thought of asking her mother to send someone to pick her up, so even though it meant spending even more money she couldn't really spare, Maureen called a cab to take her to the hospital where her father was staying.

Maureen still found it surprising that her father had allowed himself to be taken to a hospital. In all her life, she had never known him to even visit a doctor. None had been allowed when she was younger, not even when she began to run a dangerously high fever when she had chicken pox. Her father had just gathered together all the members of the congregation who'd already had the disease, and they prayed over her burning hot body. Maureen was pretty sure the popsicles her mother had managed to sneak her had done a lot more to ease the fever than any of their prayers.

The fact that he was allowing himself not only to be seen by a doctor now, but to be kept in a hospital, told Maureen that her father was truly on death's door. 

After about a twenty minute drive, the cab deposited Maureen in front of a tiny hospital. Maureen didn't know what she had expected, but she supposed such a tiny place shouldn't have surprised her. She couldn't exactly imagine her father in some huge, state of the art place. She did have to raise an eyebrow at the fact that it was a Catholic hospital, though. _Sisters of the Sorrowful Mother_ , the sign out front said. Maureen stifled a highly inappropriate laugh at that. She supposed her mother _was_ rather sorrowful, so it seemed oddly fitting.

Maureen stared at the sign for a moment longer, then smoothed her skirt and walked through the hospital doors. She had made a point of wearing the longest skirt she owned and an oversized sweater that, in Summer's words, left absolutely everything to the imagination. It wasn't a fashionable outfit at all, but it was still probably something her family would consider scandalous. Maureen decided that they would just have to deal with it. Her old wardrobe was long gone, replaced with Summer's help and endless trips to Goodwill to buy whatever she could afford. She could only imagine that she must stick out like a sore thumb, wearing her thrift store fashion, in this small town hospital. Judging by the looks the nurses and people in the tiny waiting room were giving her, she definitely did.

She stepped up to the small desk and gave the woman sitting at it—a nun, Maureen assumed, based on her crucifix and overall plain looks—a small smile. “Umm, I'm here to see Joel Wilson.”

“We're only allowing close relatives in to see him at the moment,” the nun, Sister Mary Josephine according to her name tag, replied.

“I'm his daughter,” Maureen choked out, the words sounding even stranger to her ears than his name had.

“Name?” Sister Mary Josephine asked. 

“Maureen Wilson.”

She flipped through a clipboard for a moment, then glanced up at Maureen with a smile. “You're right here on the list, dear. Just head straight down that hallway. He's in Room 23, near the end.”

“Thank you,” Maureen replied, turning to walk in the direction the sister had indicated.

It wasn't a long hallway, which didn't surprise Maureen at all. Just as she'd said, Room 23 was second from the end. The door was open a crack, and she could see her mother's hunched form in a chair pulled close to the bed. Even though she hadn't seen her for three years, she immediately recognized her.

The man in the hospital bed, though, was a complete stranger to her.

He was hooked up to more different tubes and machines that Maureen could count, their various lines snaking around the bed so that she couldn't begin to guess where they began and ended. That was scary enough, but the figure laying in the midst of it all was terrifying. Her father had never been a large man; his strength lie in his voice and the way he could use it to command an entire room's attention, not in his physical strength or size. Now he looked even smaller and weaker than ever, barely more than a skeleton beneath his hospital gown. Maureen wasn't even sure that he was conscious at all, but he stirred slightly when the door clicked shut behind her.

“Maureen?” He croaked out, his voice seeming to have also lost all its previous power.

She could only nod, too afraid of the scene in front of her to step further into the room.

“I asked her to come,” her mother said. Her voice was nearly as weak, although it had never held much power.

“I see,” he replied, and those two words sounded worse to Maureen than any sort of curse he could have uttered instead.

Maureen shrank back and pressed her body to the door. “I can... I can go, if you want.”

“You came all this way. Might as well stay for a while.” He turned his head slightly toward her mother. “Esther, can you give us a moment alone?”

Ever the obedient wife, her mother stood and walked out of the room. Maureen stepped aside to let her pass and they shared only the briefest of looks before she was gone, leaving Maureen alone with her father for the first time in years.

“You look... different,” he said after a moment, seeming to strain himself just with the effort it took to look her over.

“I got older, I guess,” Maureen said, taking a few tentative steps toward the bed.

“Still mouthy, though,” he replied. The words sent him into a coughing fit that made Maureen cringe.

Once the coughing fit subsided, Maureen asked, “What... what happened?”

“You think these doctors really have any clue?” He asked, sounding just like the father Maureen remembered. “My heart stopped. Cardiac arrest, in their terms, caused by an aneurysm. Started in my head, but it's the heart that's the real problem.”

There was a metaphor in there, Maureen was certain. Of course you couldn't trust your heart; Taylor had proven that to her all too well. Maybe your mind wasn't very trustworthy either. What else was there to rely on, Maureen wondered?

She knew what her father would say if she asked those questions out loud. _Your soul._ Maureen wasn't exactly where in your anatomy that was located.

“And what happened to _you_?” Her father asked, looking her up and down critically.

“Nothing happened,” Maureen replied, wrapping her arms self consciously around her body, as though that could shield her from his stare. “I've been at college.”

“I'm aware. Learning all about the world, hmm? Ready to come running back now and admit I was right?”

Maureen shook her head. “No. I mean, yeah, I have. But... I can't come back, Daddy.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because... Mom asked me to come. And you're... I mean, you're really sick. I couldn't stay away, could I?”

He let out a hoarse laugh. “Why not? You've been out there for three years. And you think you can come back now, just to what, check up on me? Make sure I really am on my way to meet the Lord?”

“No, Daddy, it's nothing like—”

“Isn't it?” He asked. “I always imagined you'd come back, you know. But not like this. Guess I was just fooling myself. Should have known you wouldn't ever learn.”

“Learn what?” Maureen couldn't stop herself from asking, the words coming out with far more bite than she intended.

“That the devil's waiting around every corner,” he replied, his voice rising almost to its former strength, but with more fear than foreboding. He gave Maureen another glance. “But you look like you've already found him. You look just like a part of that world.”

Maureen knew that she didn't really; anyone could have looked at her and seen that she didn't fit in _anywhere_. A part of her wanted to take her father's words as a compliment, but she knew that wasn't at all the spirit in which he intended them. In his eyes, he'd just leveled a horrible insult at her.

“I don't know what to say.” She couldn't meet his judgmental glare as she said it.

“Nothing more needs to be said,” he replied. “If you're not here to come back into the fold, you're not doing either of us any good. You might as well go on back to Sin City.”

She stared down at her father's frail body, waiting for him to say he was kidding. But her father didn't kid. Maureen didn't think she could remember a single joke he'd told in her entire lifetime. This was no joke. If she wasn't willing to come back to his church, she was nothing to him. She had feared as much, but a tiny part of her had hoped that in his last days, he might be a little more forgiving. Obviously, she had been wrong.

He looked like the effort of talking to her had worn him out entirely, and he turned his head to the side—both to sleep and to ignore her, she supposed. Maureen took a few steps toward the door, knowing the conversation was over, then paused. She couldn't stop herself from wanting to get the last word.

“It's not Sin City, Daddy. It's Chicago.”

Maureen knew it was a petty point to argue, but she didn't care. With that said, she opened the door and walked out into the hallway. Her mother was leaning against the opposite wall, clutching at a set of prayer beads. That was strange, Maureen thought. She supposed they must have been a gift from one of the nuns; Father certainly wouldn't approve of them, but she didn't have the heart to let that thought leave her lips. If they comforted her mother, she would let her have them.

“Is he resting now?” Her mother asked, still rolling the beads around in her hand and not quite meeting Maureen's eyes.

“Yes,” Maureen replied, then softly added, “I shouldn't have bothered him.”

“Whatever he said to you... he doesn't really mean it.”

Maureen shook her head. “No. He means it, and it's exactly what I expected of him.”

“I wish it didn't have to be this way,” her mother said. “I mean, I wish there could have been a way... a way for you to stay with us _and_ have the life you wanted. Go to college, study, whatever. But I guess those two lives just weren't ever going to be compatible.”

“No, they weren't,” Maureen replied, her anger fading somewhat. She still hated that her father could completely disown her, but she was beginning to see that her mother actually was capable of having her own opinions. It might have been too little, too late, but it softened Maureen's heart some to realize it.

“Will you still stay? Just for the weekend?”

Maureen nodded. “Just for the weekend. My bus leaves Sunday evening.”

She didn't know if she had made the right decision, but as her mother pulled her into a hug, the prayer beads digging into her back, she decided that it didn't feel like _completely_ the wrong decision.


	22. The Bitter End

Maureen couldn't bring herself to go back to the hospital to see her father again. It was just as well, she figured, because she knew he didn't want to see her either. Her mother might not have said as much, but she could see it in her eyes. Both mornings, her mother woke up early and cooked breakfast for the two of them, then went off to the hospital with various members of their church. She didn't ask Maureen to come with her, and Maureen could see in her eyes that she couldn't. Whether Father had forbidden it outright or just made it obvious that he disapproved, it was all the same.

By Sunday morning, Maureen was really beginning to wonder why she had bothered making this trip. It was almost over, though. She only had to make it through the rest of that day and then she would be on her way back to Chicago. She could leave her parents behind yet again.

Once her mother was gone for the day, Maureen had the freedom to do whatever she wanted. It felt strange to be so near her family and yet be able to do anything and go anywhere—at least, anywhere within walking distance. As usual, her father had chosen a home as far from the middle of town as possible, so there wasn't much around for Maureen to explore. She took a long walk around the neighborhood anyway, just to clear her mind.

It didn't help very much.

She still didn't understand why she was in Oklahoma. Her father clearly didn't want her there, no matter how close he might have been to death's door, and that made it hard for her to even care about his fragile health. Maureen knew that was horrible, but she couldn't change the way she felt. She wasn't the daughter he wanted, and if she'd had the choice, he wouldn't have been the father she would have chosen, either. He could claim that he was trying to protect her and do what was best for her, but Maureen couldn't see how traveling around constantly and being forced to fit into his mold of the perfect, subservient daughter could possibly be good for her at all. He had never stopped to ask what she wanted. He had never cared, and he still didn't.

If it made her callous and cruel not to be all that worried about her father's condition, Maureen decided that she was okay with that. 

Maureen didn't know what to think about her mother at all. She was so different than she remembered. Perhaps she had always been that way, but living under Father's thumb had hidden the fact that she actually had a personality and opinions of her own. Maureen supposed that was a possibility; after all, she herself was a different person than her parents ever knew. Why couldn't her mother be different, too? Maureen wished that she could have spent more of this visit with her mother, getting to really know her, but it didn't seem that was going to happen. Now she was running out of time, with only a few hours left until she was supposed to leave.

With nothing else to do, Maureen found herself wandering aimlessly around her parents' current home. It didn't really look different from the others they'd had over the years; old, full of someone else's furniture, and devoid of nearly any signs that anyone really lived there. They never stayed in any one place long enough to decorate or leave their mark on a house in any sort of way. Maureen didn't know why she had expected that to change or what she thought she would find wandering in and out of this house's few rooms.

The bedroom she was staying in was the most bare of them all; she supposed her parents didn't really have much use for a guest room. Even after two nights of sleeping there, she hadn't really disturbed anything in it. There was only a bed and a small end table, anyway, so she'd tossed her bag in the floor and lived out of it. When she finally bothered to open the closet, she was surprised to see it filled with the few belongings she'd left behind when she ran away. Her old dresses were hung carefully, as though someone were going to come along and put one of them on any moment. It reminded her of parents who leave their dead childrens' rooms as shrines, and she couldn't help thinking bitterly that her father probably would have preferred if she were dead.

But her mother, she supposed, had held out hope that she would someday return—though, perhaps, under different circumstances.

She hadn't heard a car in the driveway, so the sudden sound of the front door slamming made Maureen jump. She closed the closet quickly and rushed from the room, ashamed to let her mother see her snooping like that. It was still early in the afternoon. Her mother shouldn't have been home yet; she seemed to prefer staying at the hospital as late as they would allow. The fact that she was home so early gave Maureen a bad feeling.

When she stepped out into the hallway and saw her mother's face, she knew her bad feeling was correct.

“He's... he's gone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maureen rushed forward, watching her mother crumple before her eyes. She caught her before she fell all the way to the floor and held onto her as tightly as she could. Maureen could muster up no tears of her own, but her mother was sobbing enough for both of them. Not knowing what to say, she just held her, letting the hallway wall help support her weight, and let her cry.

Once her crying slowed some and she seemed like she might not collapse, Maureen guided her mother to the living room and deposited her on the couch. She made her way to the kitchen and dug through all the cabinets, hoping to find some tea or something. After some searching, she located a few old bags of chamomile and a couple mugs. For all she knew, the tea might be older than her, but Maureen figured it was worth trying. Hot tea was one of Summer's habits that she's picked up; it was a better one than all the alcohol, Maureen figured.

Figuring her parents probably didn't have a tea kettle, she heated the mugs of water in the microwave and dipped the tea bags in like she'd seen Summer do countless times. A quick sip told her that it wasn't the best tea ever, but it would do. In her current state, she wasn't sure her mother would really care how bad the tea was.

She walked into the living room and handed her mother the cup without a word, then took a seat in the chair opposite the couch. Maureen wanted to comfort her, but she didn't know what to say or do. She could hardly even dredge up any feelings of sadness of her own, so any kind words she tried to say would likely just sound hollow and empty.

The two of them sat in silence for a long time, neither one daring to say a word, until finally their mugs were empty and they had no excuse not to speak.

“Will you stay?” Her mother asked, cutting right to the chase.

“Umm,” Maureen replied. “I don't... I don't know. For how long?”

“Just for the funeral. I didn't mean...” Her mother stopped and shook her head. “I didn't mean for good. I know better than to think you're going to come back to stay now.”

Maureen tried not to let her surprise show. Her mother truly was a different person, a person she didn't know at all, and she did wish there was time to get to know her. She hadn't told her when she planned the trip, but her fall break was a week long; if it weren't for her bus ticket, she could have stayed the entire week. 

“I don't know...” Maureen finally replied. “Something tells me he wouldn't have wanted me there.”

“Well, it's not up to him now, is it?” 

Maureen blinked, unable to hide her surprise that time. “No... no, I guess it's not.”

“Listen, I know...” her mother began, then sighed. “I know you and your father had your differences. And I wish I'd... been able to speak up then. But I can now. And I know that it might not look like it to you, but he loved you, in the only way he knew how to. He might have been angry with you, but it was just his pride. Look at you. You're... you're all grown up, and you did it your way. You proved him wrong. And Lord knows he hated that.”

Maureen couldn't stop herself from laughing at that, and she was relieved when her mother joined in. It all seemed so surreal, hearing her mother say the things Maureen had barely even dared to think about her father.

Her mother took a deep breath, and said, “He'll be turning over in his grave when he realizes it, but I'm in charge now. In charge of the church, this house... my own life. And I'm saying that I want you at his funeral. It might not be what he would have _admitted_ to wanting, but I know your father. But I guess... well, it's up to you.”

Maureen nodded. It was a big decision, and she didn't know what to do. She wanted to honor her mother's wishes, especially now that she was seeing this new side of her. The two of them could never undo their mistakes, but this could, she supposed, be a step in the right direction. 

“I think...” Maureen began, then sighed. “If I can switch my bus ticket or get another one, I'll stay. I do... want to be there, though. I just have to be sure I can get back to Chicago before my classes start again.”

Her mother nodded. “I understand. I know how important college is to you.”

“It is, yeah,” Maureen replied. “When... umm, I mean do you have the funeral planned already?”

“Yes, it will be at the church,” her mother replied. “We've been here for a while, you know. Your father has—had a really nice little church, not too far from here. So we'll just have a little service there. I'll have to make the... the arrangements, I guess, but he wanted to be cremated. He didn't like all these cemeteries who let just anyone buy a plot, you know.”

Maureen nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. If she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear a little sarcasm in the way her mother recited all these little quirks of her father's, but she wasn't sure.

“Well, okay,” Maureen said, taking a deep breath. “If I can just get to the bus station and see about switching my ticket... I'll do what I can, but I don't know. I... I hope I can stay.”

Her words surprised her, but she meant them. If she could stay and do what was right by her mother, she would. Doing what was right by her father was just a side effect, and she doubted he would see having his awful daughter at his funeral as _right_. But that didn't matter. As her mother had said, it wasn't up to him. 

Maureen hated herself for feeling a little bit of relief that he was no longer a specter hanging over her life.

She sat the mug down and stood up, then pulled her mother up and wrapped her up into a hug. That only made her dissolve into another fit of tears, but Maureen just held tighter and let her cry. Even though she still felt a little trepidation about staying, she knew that her mother needed her. If there was any possible way for her to stay and do this one thing right for her mother, then she was going to do it.

And maybe then she could finally be free of her family and all of the guilt they had caused her.


	23. Walking The Last Bridge Alone

The drive to Tulsa with her mother was full of awkward silence. Maureen hated making her mother drive, but she'd never learned how; it just didn't seem necessary in Chicago, and before that her father had frowned upon it. She wondered when her mother had learned, but thought it better not to ask. She'd borrowed a truck from one of the other church members for going to the hospital, so she offered to drive Maureen to the bus station in Tulsa to see about getting her ticket changed. It was the least she could do, she said, and Maureen found herself powerless to refuse. She would find some way to pay her mother back before she left for good.

It seemed like an even longer drive than it had the first time. Maureen supposed that was just her sense of dread getting to her. She had never gotten comfortable with public situations, even after so many years out in the real world. On most days, she could make her way through things, but when things veered way out of her comfort zone, as this entire trip had, a flock of nauseating butterflies seemed to take up residence in her stomach. 

Finally, they arrived at their destination. Maureen's mother parked the truck in a parking lot not too far from the bus station, and wished her good luck. Maureen gave her the best smile she could manage while thinking that she definitely needed the luck.

The bus station was fairly small, so Maureen only had to stand and wait for a few minutes before the line moved along and she found herself in front of the ticket booth.

“I umm, I need to see about changing a ticket for a different date,” she explained to the woman behind the counter, hating her voice for how it trembled.

“What's the current date and what do you need to change it to?”

“It's for tonight,” Maureen said. “And I need to change it to... umm, Saturday, I guess.”

The clerk shook her head slightly. “I'm afraid it's too late to just do an exchange or a refund. Those have to be done within twenty four hours of the date and time the ticket is for. You'll have to just purchase a new ticket for Saturday.”

Maureen stared at the woman in disbelief. The room felt like it was closing in on her and she couldn't breath. She didn't have another two hundred dollars. She was sure her mother didn't have that to spare, either, and she couldn't ask it from Summer, either. It had bothered her enough to borrow the original money. 

“I... I guess I'll just keep the original ticket,” Maureen mumbled, backing away from the counter in a daze.

She walked out of the building and glanced around. There was no way she could go back to her mother and explain this. How could she tell her that she had to miss her father's funeral? Even though it meant little to Maureen, she could see how much having her there meant to her mother. 

But what could she do? She had to get away for a moment and think, although she doubted there were any solutions to be found. She just had to get away so she could breathe again. Without any destination in mind or any idea where she was, Maureen began to walk.

She wandered for a block or so, finding herself mostly surrounded by office buildings. None of those would be of any use to her, although she supposed there was _nothing_ that would be. Either she swallowed her pride and asked Summer for more money that she couldn't pay back or she left on the bus that night. There were no other options.

Finally, she noticed a small coffee shop tucked in between a few offices. It wouldn't solve her problems, Maureen knew, but sitting down and drinking a cappuccino would calm her nerves, at least briefly.

The coffee shop was small but not very crowded. That helped ease Maureen's sudden claustrophobia some. She took a deep breath of the strong coffee smell as she stood in line and waited to order her drink. After placing the order, she saw that she had just a little bit of cash left, and used it to buy two raspberry scones. Her mother would like one of those, she thought. It wouldn't fix anything, but it was a nice little gesture, at least.

She sat down at a small table to enjoy her drink. Maureen wasn't sure how much longer she might have before her mother would come looking for her. She had some business of her own to take care of before the funeral, and Maureen really didn't want to think about any of that. All she wanted was to sit and drink her cappuccino until she had calmed down enough to go back and explain that she couldn't stay for the funeral.

When the bell above the front door tinkled, Maureen instinctively glanced up. It wasn't as though she would know anyone who walked into the coffee shop. There were, after all, only two people she knew in Tulsa right then. One was her mother, and the other was— 

Taylor Hanson. 

She had to blink a few times to be sure it was really him and not just her imagination playing a horrible trick on her. It was him, though. He didn't look her way until his drink was in his hand and he had turned to leave. 

“Maureen?” Taylor asked tentatively, taking a few steps closer to her table.

Maureen wanted to say no and pretend that she didn't know him at all, but she couldn't. She nodded. “Yeah... it's me.”

“You're in Tulsa,” he said, and Maureen could tell from the confusion evident in his voice that it was a question, too.

“Only until tonight,” she replied. “At least, that was the plan. And I guess I'm sticking to it.”

Taylor hesitantly pulled out the chair across from Maureen, giving her a look that seemed to be asking her permission to sit down. Figuring her day couldn't get much worse even by inviting Taylor Hanson into it, Maureen gave him a nod. 

“So,” he said. “ _Why_ are you in Tulsa? And why do you need to leave so quickly?”

“Family,” Maureen replied simply, not wanting to reveal much to him. “Some... things happened. And changed my plans. I should have stayed the rest of the week, but... well, I can't change my bus ticket without paying for an entirely new one, which I can't afford, so I'm leaving tonight.”

Taylor nodded. “But you want to stay longer?”

“I _should_ stay longer,” Maureen replied, figuring that was closer to the truth. “I really need to.”

“I see,” Taylor replied, nodding. “So it's really important to you?”

Maureen frowned and pushed back her chair. “No. I mean, yes, it is. But you're not going to do whatever it is you think you're going to do. I'm not... I can't let you do things for me like that. It's not right.”

“What's not right about me helping a friend?” Taylor asked.

“You are _not_ my friend Taylor,” Maureen hissed, pushing her chair back so hard that it hit the wall behind her and standing up. “Just please... leave me alone.”

Taylor stood up and placed his hand on Maureen's arm. She started to jerk away from him, but he was barely grasping her at all and certainly not holding her in place. “Maureen... I'm not trying to get you to take me back or anything. I know I've burned that bridge. But if you need help, I can still give it. I _want_ to.”

“And I _don't_ want you to,” Maureen replied.

Taylor sighed. “Just think about it, okay? You don't have to accept my help, but I'm going to offer it regardless. You're free to do what you want.”

Maureen stared at him for a moment, trying to find something in his face that told her he was not to be trusted. Despite the fact that she didn't trust him, his face seemed honest, at least right then. She had to admit that what he'd said was reasonable, too.

“Fine,” she finally replied, pulling her arm back. “Do what you want. I'm not saying thank you or anything.”

“I know you're not. And that's fine,” Taylor replied softly. “If I don't see you again before you leave... I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess it is,” Maureen replied. “Goodbye, Taylor.”

“Goodbye, Maureen.”

He looked like there was something more he wanted to say, and Maureen paused to give him the chance. When he just stared at her and didn't speak, she decided to end it. She couldn't take much more of his stare. Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked out of the coffee shop. As much as she hated to face her mother, she knew it couldn't be any worse than seeing Taylor Hanson again had been.

****

The drive back to Sapulpa was even quieter and more awkward than the drive to Tulsa had been. Her mother hadn't been angry with her, but Maureen could still sense her disappointment. She resolved to call Summer as soon as she was alone and ask her for the money; better her than Taylor, Maureen decided.

Seeing Taylor again had felt even worse than Maureen could have imagined. The worst part was that he seemed like himself—that is, like the Taylor that Maureen had gotten to know and begun to fall for. He wasn't the slurring, drug addled boy she'd forced herself to let go. He seemed perfectly normal. If he'd been a mess, Maureen would have found it easier to remind herself why she had to break things off with him. He wasn't, though. He seemed happy, healthy and just as sweet as she'd once thought he was.

That was what made it so hard to leave him again.

As they drove on, finally pulling into the driveway of her parents' latest house, she tried her best to put Taylor out of her mind. She couldn't have imagined really bringing him into her world. A girl who had lived like she had, in these tiny little houses, surrounded by religious zealots... that sort of girl didn't belong in Taylor Hanson's life. He would never really understand her. Seeing him and then coming back to this tiny house and walking into her borrowed bedroom only reminded her yet again that the two of them were just too different.

They had only been home for a few minutes when ladies from the church began arriving at the door with plates of home cooked food. Maureen remembered well those sort of trips; her mother had usually been the one who organized the effort to bring food to any church member in need. Now they were the ones in need. Maureen carried the food in and put it away, leaving her mother to make small talk with the women. She couldn't help noticing the way most of them eyed her strangely. Did they know who she was? Or were they just surprised to see someone who looked so obviously like an outsider in Father Wilson's house?

Maureen decided that she didn't realize want to stick around them long enough to have those questions answered.

She was glad for all the food the church ladies delivered, though, because it meant neither she nor her mother needed to attempt to cook dinner that night. While she knew both of them were capable, she didn't have the energy and she didn't think her mother needed to worry about anything other than just holding herself together and getting through the funeral. Once the crowd of visitors seemed to die down some, Maureen found plates and filled them with pasta and tuna salad sandwiches for the two of them.

She had just sat down at the table with her own plate when her cell phone buzzed, alerting her to a new text. Maureen realized that she hadn't called or texted Summer yet that day. It was probably her checking in, Maureen figured, and jumped up to grab her phone and check the message.

It wasn't Summer. It was Taylor.

The message was so long that it was divided into multiple texts, and Maureen's eyes widened as she read them.

_I know you told me not to but I couldn't stop myself. There's a plane ticket for Saturday evening reserved and paid for at Tulsa International Airport with your name on it. If you need to leave some other time, it can be changed. Just let me know. I don't know what you're going through but if you need anything else, let me know. I know it doesn't fix any of what I did, but it just feels like the right thing to do to help you. - Taylor_

Maureen wanted to be really angry with him. She wasn't, though. She was just relieved. Even if she didn't really _want_ to go to the funeral, she knew that she needed to. Accepting charity from Taylor still bothered her, but if he was going to give it no matter what, then she wasn't going to refuse it.


	24. Surrounded By Ghosts

The funeral came far sooner than Maureen was prepared for. All too quickly, it was Tuesday and she was buttoning up one of the old dresses her mother had kept waiting for her should she ever return. Nothing she had packed seemed appropriate for a funeral; in fact, Maureen couldn't think of a single thing she owned that would have been appropriate for her father's church. With black boots and a black cardigan, the old gray dress she'd found in the closet would have to do. It was itchy and it made Maureen feel like a child again, but it was the best she could manage under the circumstances.

As soon as she stepped out of her room in the outfit, she could see something change in her mother's expression. If she was hoping the outfit—which felt more like a costume—meant the “old” Maureen was back, she was going to be disappointed. Maureen wasn't going to tell her that, though, and whatever her mother was thinking, she kept it to herself.

They walked to the church together, and all the while her mother explained the plans for the service. Maureen tried to pay attention, but it all just gave her such horrible nostalgia that she wanted to run away all over again. She wasn't sure she could handle another one of those long church services with all the congregation participating and filling the room with their tales of fire and brimstone. A funeral ought to be a celebration, Maureen thought, though she couldn't think of much to celebrate about her father's life.

Maureen wasn't sure what she had expected from the church. It wasn't any bigger or fancier than the others her father had called home over the years. This one, at least, looked like it might have been intended as a church, unlike the old storefronts and things that he had re-purposed. There was a small crowd gathered outside, and Maureen could have sworn that a hush fell over them as she and her mother walked by. She supposed that wasn't odd, but it made her feel paranoid to see that all eyes were on them.

That feeling of paranoia didn't leave her even as they made their way inside and took their seats in the very first pew. Maureen only had the vaguest memories of her grandparents' funerals, but it still seemed strange to her to see only a small urn surrounded by flowers rather than a coffin. To know that little bottle was all that was left of her father certainly made him seem less intimidating. The crowd of his followers that filled the building was plenty intimidating, though. It was a bigger crowd than she had expected, and she thought she even recognized a few faces from the past. She knew her father had a few dedicated followers, but she hadn't considered that they would have _literally_ followed him. When a younger preacher led them in song and their voices filled the building, Maureen was taken aback by just how powerful they all sounded together.

Maureen had to fake her way through the songs. Only a few verses seemed to still linger in her memory, and she had to admit that she'd never done a good job of learning them. It had been a constant source of frustration for her father that she refused to learn the hymns and Bible verses that he wanted her to learn. She felt a strange sense of nostalgia for her childhood as the funeral went on. Even though it was far from ideal, it seemed that in certain ways, she'd had less to worry about back then. At least her father had protected her from boys like Taylor...

That was truly the only good thing she could think of to say about him. When the time came for members of the congregation to speak, Maureen stayed silent. Her mother gave her a look that Maureen thought might have been sympathy or perhaps understanding.

The funeral went on for hours and hours, and after that, the congregation still lingered. Maureen remembered this long boring part of her grandfather's funeral; she'd been old enough then that her parents had allowed her to stay up late into the night as the church members sat around talking. It had bored her to tears then, and she had a feeling it would this time too, but she knew she couldn't leave.

She had to stay, if for no other reason than to help her mother make it through the day.

After the service concluded, some people left, but a fairly large portion of the crowd remained. Maureen's back stiffened as a group of them walked toward the pew where she sat handing her mother tissues. She didn't know why, but they made her nervous. The man at the front of the crowd looked vaguely familiar and she thought he might have been one of the ones who'd followed her father around for years.

“Esther,” the man said, placing his hand on her mother's back. “You know we're all very sorry for your loss.”

It didn't feel like a complete sentence to Maureen, and when the man's gaze fell on her, she was certain that it wasn't.

“Now, who's this young lady? She looks familiar...”

“Tim, you know she's my daughter... Maureen,” her mother managed to choke out.

 _Tim._ The name didn't ring any bells, but it was common enough that Maureen figured he could have been anyone. 

“Little Maureen?” He asked, eying her more critically. “No, it couldn't be. She ran away. Abandoned the church. Turned her back on all of us.”

Maureen felt sick to her stomach. His voice was soft and sweet, but she could hear the venom behind his words.

“I... I called her,” her mother said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I asked her to come back because her father was sick.”

Tim's eyes narrowed. “Now, Miss Esther, I don't think it's really that easy for her to just... come back. Why, look at her, with her face all painted up like that? She's not part of this church anymore and you know it.”

“I'm not joining the church,” Maureen replied, surprising even herself with the strength of her voice. “I came to my father's funeral, and that's it.”

Tim chuckled. “And I'm sure Joel wanted you here. The prodigal daughter. No, you definitely aren't part of this church, and you shouldn't be.”

Maureen looked to her mother for support, but she had buried her face in her hands and was crying again. It was useless. Maureen looked at the crowd gathered behind Tim and she could see from the looks on their faces that they agreed with him. She wasn't wanted there. It hadn't mattered that her mother asked her to be there. She was an outsider and they didn't want her around.

That was fine by her. She didn't want to be there anyway.

Maureen leaned in closer to her mother and said, “I think I'm just going to leave. It's probably best that way.”

She didn't know what sort of response she had hoped for, but it certainly wasn't for her mother just to nod. All the strength she'd shown over the past few days, the new and different personality Maureen had seen... it all seemed to vanish as soon as the church members questioned her decisions. In an instant, Maureen realized that whatever pride her mother might have felt for her, she wasn't going to show it now. She was going to let the church walk all over her daughter to save her own face.

A tiny part of Maureen understood it. The biggest part of her, though, wanted to run away all over again and never, ever try to be a part of her family again for the rest of her life. It just wasn't worth the pain.

She stood up and rushed from the church, not waiting around for Tim or anyone else to say anything to her or about her. Maureen would have sworn that they were all watching her and talking about her, but she didn't dare stop or glance back to see for certain. Once she was out the church doors, she didn't stop running. She ran all the way back to her mother's house, only pausing to catch her breath once she was safely inside the doors.

The trip had been a bad idea all along. Maureen had known it from the beginning, but still she had tried to make it through. Now she was stuck in Oklahoma until Saturday, unless she changed her plane ticket. She didn't even know how to go about doing that, but she knew she couldn't stay another minute at her mother's house. Even if her mother did try to apologize, she knew now that there would be no escaping the judgment of the church. There was no way she could stand to be that close to them.

There was only one option, then. Maureen hated to do it, but she saw no other choice.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse and scrolled through her contacts until she found the number that she hadn't yet had the courage to delete. She pressed “call” and tried to steady her breathing as she waited for him to answer.

“Hello?”

“Taylor? It's Maureen. I was just... umm... well, it's a long story, but is there any possible way you can come out to Sapulpa and pick me up?”


	25. Drown Her Pain

Taylor didn't know what to expect when Maureen called him. It surprised the hell out of him, and left him with a lot of questions that she refused to answer. All she would say was that she needed him to come pick her up. Taylor hoped that she would explain herself once he arrived at the address she'd given him, but he had his doubts.

Something had been different about Maureen. Taylor wasn't sure what had changed, but she had seemed very different when he ran into her in the coffee shop. He had always thought there was something she wasn't telling him about her family, and he couldn't help thinking that her family must have been part of what had gotten her so depressed. He hated that that was probably the only reason she was allowing him back into her life, but if he could be be helpful to her in some way, he was going to try.

After everything he had put her through, he figured he owed her that much. If he could just do one thing right, it might not totally redeem him, but it was better than nothing.

Taylor didn't know his way around Sapulpa, despite it being fairly close to Tulsa, so he paid close attention to his GPS as he drove. He wasn't surprised to find himself outside of the small town, driving down a tiny little country road. Maureen had hinted at growing up quite isolated, he remembered. This little neighborhood, if it could even be called that, certainly looked isolated to him.

He craned his neck to read the house numbers, but he found that he didn't need to. Even from a few yards away, he recognized Maureen's long blonde curls. She was sitting on the top step of small porch, a suitcase next to her. What struck Taylor the most, though, was the way she was dressed. He'd always thought she had a cute sort of style that was more classy and covered up than he was used to. Between his fans and the club girls he hung around, he wasn't used to seeing any women who didn't bare a ton of skin. Her outfit right then was different, even for her. Taylor thought she looked like something out of Little House On The Prairie, but he had a feeling it was probably best not to tell Maureen that.

He pulled into the driveway and rolled down his window. Maureen stood up and Taylor called out, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she answered quickly, practically sprinting toward his car.

Taylor looked Maureen up and down as she climbed into the Land Rover, and he decided there was definitely something strange about her outfit. She pulled her cardigan together and clutched her suitcase in her lap, seemingly self conscious about how she looked. It almost looked like she was trying to hide from him. Taylor couldn't be certain, but it also looked like she had been crying. As soon as he met her eyes, she looked away, and he took the hint.

“It'll only take about a half hour to get back to my apartment,” Taylor said as he put his car in drive and backed out onto the road. “Do you want to stop anywhere for food or anything?”

“No, I'm fine,” Maureen replied, shaking her head.

Taylor raised an eyebrow, barely daring to glance across the car toward her. “Well, I'm starving, so I think I'll just go through a drive through. Maybe Wendy's?”

Maureen just shrugged. “Fine. Whatever you want.”

Taylor resisted the urge to sigh. He had a feeling the rest of this week with Maureen was going to be very, very interesting—and not necessarily in a good way.

****

Maureen hated that she'd found herself relying on Taylor. It was bad enough to admit that she needed his help, but it really annoyed her that he seemed to be going out of his way to do things for her. Even though she'd protested, he insisted on buying her _something_ at Wendy's. It didn't matter how many times she said no. In the end, he bought them each a frostie and she angrily forced spoonfuls of it down her throat as he drove on to his apartment.

He insisted on carrying her suitcase into his apartment, and Maureen agreed only because she wanted to watch him try to juggle it and his bags of food. Somehow he managed not to drop anything as they walked through the parking garage and into the lobby of his apartment building. That was when Maureen's amusement faded. She was acutely aware of how ridiculous she looked in her old dress. In her haste to leave her parents' house, she hadn't even thought to change into her normal clothes. Now that she was in Taylor's fancy apartment building, she felt even more self conscious.

It didn't make her feel much better to huddle close behind Taylor as he led the way to his apartment, but Maureen didn't know what else to do. 

She followed him into the apartment, and despite trying to prepare herself for it, she was still taken aback by how fancy it was. There was a large open room that seemed to function as living room, dining room and music room, if the assortment of instruments clustered into one corner was anything to judge by. Taylor tossed his food down on the kitchen counter and motioned for Maureen to follow him.

“There are two bedrooms,” he explained, nudging the first door down the hallway open. “No one ever really uses this one, but I figured it was a good idea to have an extra. Now I guess I'll get some use out of it.”

“Thanks,” Maureen replied, wrenching her suitcase from his grip and setting it next to the bed.

Taylor leaned against the door frame and eyed her. “Do you need anything else? Anything at all that I can get you or do for you?”

“No,” Maureen practically snapped, then sighed. “I mean... I really do appreciate you letting me stay here. But it already feels like enough of an imposition and...”

“And you don't really want to, but for reasons you're not going to tell me, you didn't think you had another choice?”

Maureen frowned. She didn't like how easily he could read her. Of course he knew that she didn't really want to be around him; she had made that pretty clear, hadn't she? Reluctantly, she nodded. “Yeah... something like that. And no, I'm not going to tell you why I asked you to let me stay here.”

“If you decide that you do want to talk about it, I hope you know that I'm willing to listen.”

She eyed him suspiciously, but he seemed sincere enough. Sighing, she replied, “Yeah... I know. But I doubt that's going to happen.”

Taylor sighed. “Alright... but I'm here. Well, actually, I need to head into the office for a bit. I'll be back later, though, and we can figure out what to do about dinner. It'll be kind of a late dinner, but I'm already taking time out of the office to... well, you needed me, so I was there for you. You'll be alright for a few hours, right? You can use my computer or watch tv or whatever...”

“I'm not a kid,” Maureen replied with a tiny laugh so Taylor would know she wasn't trying to be mean. “I'll be fine. I'm sure I can find something to occupy the time until you get back.”

“Okay,” Taylor said, smiling. “I'll be back in a few hours.”

With that, he was gone and Maureen let out a huge sigh. She hated that Taylor seemed so eager to use these few days to try to redeem himself to her. She hadn't wanted that, wasn't sure it was at all possible, but what other choice did she have? She was sure that Summer would give her a place to stay for the rest of fall break if she left Oklahoma early, but even doing that now would require getting Taylor's help changing the plane ticket. No matter what she did, she would be depending on him in one way or another.

It was just easier to stay, she decided.

Taylor's apartment was nice, and there was plenty for Maureen to amuse herself with, but he hadn't been gone long when she found herself bored. She'd flipped through all of his hundreds of television channels and hadn't found anything she wanted to watch. His bookshelves held more promise, but none of the books she found seemed to hold her attention.

No matter which book she tried to read, her mind drifted back to the funeral. She had wanted to believe that it would be okay and that her mother was willing to at least somewhat accept who she was now. Even if her mother wanted to, Maureen could see now that it wasn't that simple.

There was no easy way out of that life. She had taken the hard way out three years ago, and it was still haunting her.

A tiny part of Maureen had hoped this trip would provide her with some closure. Seeing her family again would give her the necessary push to declare that part of her life officially in the past and over. But it wasn't. It would never be over, it seemed. Nothing would chase those ghosts away and rid her entirely of the memories of growing up under her overzealous father's thumb. He was the only one who had escaped.

Her thoughts made her restless, and Maureen began to pace around the apartment. Eventually, she found herself in the kitchen. She wanted a glass of water, but what she found was an impressive collection of liquor bottles. Some were nearly full but most were varying degrees of almost empty. Even when she attended parties with Summer, she rarely had more than a few sips. She never liked it and didn't understand the appeal.

Maureen remembered, though, the way Taylor had explained why he drank and got high.

To help him forget.

She knew it wouldn't be a permanent fix, but she was desperate. If it would calm her mind down just for the night, Maureen decided that would be good enough. She wrenched the cap off a bottle of rum, knowing that was one of Summer's favorites, and took a large gulp. It was sweet at first, but it burned as it went down her throat. She would just have to get used to it, she decided.

With the bottle in hand, Maureen made her way back to the couch to flip through Taylor's television channels yet again. Between the rum and reality tv, surely she could find _some_ way to numb her mind.

****

Taylor hated leaving Maureen alone at his apartment when she was obviously upset about something. He hadn't been able to give Isaac and Zac a good excuse for why he'd run out on their rehearsal, though, so he didn't see much choice but to go back to the office for a few hours just to get them off his back. He was sure they probably thought he was out on a drug run or something, and he really didn't even have the energy to bother correcting their misconceptions.

Once his brothers finally saw fit to call it quits for the night, Taylor rushed back to his apartment. It wasn't that far from the studio anyway, but he drove straight there, not stopping for food or even a fresh coffee along the way. He did consider stopping for food, but he truly had no idea what Maureen would want to eat, if anything. If she was hungry, he hoped he had something in the apartment that he could turn into an acceptable, if late, dinner. If not, he would have to order something in and hope that she would eat whatever it was. 

He couldn't help feeling like she was refusing to eat just to spite him and refuse his hospitality in whatever small way that she could. It bothered him, but if she wanted to be that way, he didn't think he could stop her.

When he walked into the apartment, he called out her name and was surprised to hear a muffled and slurred reply from the general vicinity of the couch. He rushed to the couch and saw Maureen slumped across it. She had changed out of that strange dress and into a pair of pajamas, and judging by the empty rum bottle on the coffee table, she had found his stash.

“Maureen... are you drunk?” Taylor asked, not quite believing his eyes.

She furrowed her brow, as if she was giving the question serious consideration. “I think I may be.”

Taylor tried not to laugh. There was something unsettlingly familiar about watching Maureen, an innocent little girl he cared about, so completely out of her mind. He sat down on the small patch of couch she wasn't occupying and tried to help her sit up. “Yeah, I think you might be a little drunk.”

“Is it supposed to feel this... gross?” Maureen asked, pouting.

“Gross?” Taylor asked.

“Yeah,” Maureen replied, leaning heavily against him. “Gross.. like I'm going to...”

She finished the sentence with nothing more than a shudder, but Taylor got the hint. He hoisted her up into his arms and practically carried her to the bathroom. They arrived in the nick of time, and Taylor tried not to be sick himself as he watched Maureen cradle the toilet and spill her guts. He couldn't _not_ try to help her, though. He held her hair back, and wondered, but didn't ask, if this was the first time she'd ever gotten drunk. It seemed pointless to ask; what few words she said were slurred almost to the point of being incomprehensible. Taylor thought he could make out a few snippets of Bible verses and something about a funeral, and he was almost afraid to ask what any of that might have meant.

Taylor doubted there was much, if anything, that he could do to redeem himself in Maureen's eyes. Right then, though, she clearly needed him, and that was all that mattered.


	26. If It's Heaven, If It's Hell

Maureen woke with a headache and the distinct impression that she was sleeping in an unfamiliar bed. That wasn't anything new, really; she'd woken in a strange bed for the entire trip to Oklahoma. This one was different, though. It was almost comfortable enough to ease her aching head and the rest of the pains coursing through her body.

Almost.

She opened her eyes slowly, even though it made her head hurt even worse. The room around her was barely familiar at all, but after a moment, she remembered that she was in Taylor's apartment.

Taylor Hanson's apartment.

Maureen was fairly certain she was going to be sick, but the feeling passed after she laid still for a few moments. The events of the previous night slowly began to creep back into her mind and she only felt worse, but it wasn't a physical sort of illness. She couldn't remember much after Taylor arrived home and found her, but she was certain that she had made a drunken fool of herself.

She really wanted to stay holed up in Taylor's guest room all day and avoid him entirely, but she didn't think that was practical. Taylor seemed so anxious to make a good impression that she was sure he would come check on her eventually. Not wanting to wait around for that to happen, she pulled herself out of bed as slowly as possible, just to be sure the sudden movement wouldn't make her feel nauseous. It did, but she was reasonably certain that for a moment, at least, she wasn't going to throw up.

Maureen was really beginning to wonder why anyone drank if this was what it did. She couldn't recall even feeling that good the night before. She might have forgotten some things, but they weren't the things she wanted to forget, and the price of a hangover seemed like far too much to pay.

As she crept toward the kitchen, the scent of breakfast hit her and set off another wave of nausea. Even plain black coffee, her preferred breakfast since freshman year, didn't sound like a good idea right then.

Taylor turned around just as Maureen entered the room, a coffee cup in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“I made eggs,” he said. “It's okay if you don't want any, but a greasy breakfast is my favorite hangover cure. So there's fried eggs and I could make some sausage, too. Or if that doesn't sound good, there's always coffee and plain toast.”

“Coffee and toast,” Maureen replied, and even those few words hurt her throat.

Taylor gave her a tiny smirk. “I didn't think you would be up for more than that. If you want anything else, just let me know. Oh, and there's some aspirin on the counter. Figured you would need that, too.”

Maureen just nodded, unsure of what to say and feeling a little ill every time Taylor began to ramble. He held out a steaming mug of coffee and she accepted it gratefully, although she wasn't sure she was going to do more with it than wash down a couple aspirin. Still, she tossed a couple slices of toast onto the plate he'd set out for her, mostly to shut him up, and carried the plate, mug and small bottle of aspirin to the table.

Taylor joined her not long after, his plate piled high with buttered toast and fried eggs. The smell of it turned Maureen's stomach, but she tried to sip her coffee anyway. She'd downed two aspirin as soon as she sat down, but they seemed to be taking their sweet time kicking in.

“So,” Taylor said between bites. “You going to tell me what last night was all about? You really freaked me out, you know.”

Maureen paled. “What did... do I even want to know what I did?”

“Just the usual drunk stuff,” Taylor replied. “You slurred a lot, then you puked. You were still mumbling stuff I didn't really understand the whole time. But once you finished throwing up, I tucked you into bed and you went to sleep pretty quickly. Trust me, I've seen a lot worse.”

“What did I say?” Maureen asked, even though she feared she didn't want to know.

“A lot of nonsense... something about a church, a funeral... something. And what sounded like Bible verses?”

Maureen couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was so ridiculous, and she could only imagine how much it must have freaked Taylor out. The laughter soon turned to tears, though, and she slammed her head down on the table in a pathetic attempt to hide from Taylor.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened and why I had to come rescue you?”

“You didn't...” Maureen cut herself off and sighed. “No, I don't think I am.”

“What if I tell you one of my secrets?” Taylor asked.

Maureen raised her head slowly and eyed Taylor. Again, he looked sincere, but she knew better than to trust that. “I guess, maybe. But you have to go first.”

Taylor smirked. “Alright. Just try to eat some of that toast first, okay? I promise you'll feel better if you do. Then we can talk.”

Maureen could tell that Taylor was serious, so she forced herself to eat most of a piece of toast. It wasn't pleasant, but it could have been a lot worse. By the time she finished her cup of coffee, the aspirin seemed to have kicked in and the throbbing pain in her head had dulled some. She had a feeling she was going to be in pain for the rest of the day, but she welcomed even that tiny bit of improvement.

Once he had finished his own breakfast, Taylor took both of their plates to the kitchen and refilled their coffee cups. Maureen wanted to object to him waiting on her, but right then, she felt sick enough to let him. While Taylor rinsed off their dishes, she made herself comfortable on the couch and tried to prepare herself for whatever secret he could possibly be planning to reveal.

Taylor sat down next to Maureen and handed her fresh cup of coffee. He sipped his own coffee slowly, and Maureen just stared at him, wondering if he was actually going to talk.

“Well?” She asked. “You were going to tell me some secret..?”

Taylor nodded. “I'm just trying to figure out where to begin. It's a long story.”

“Maybe at the beginning?” Maureen suggested, with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Okay,” Taylor replied. “Well, when I was seventeen, I met this girl at a concert. Not like how I just stumbled upon you, though. We had this... habit of finding cute girls in the audience to ask backstage, and she and her friend happened to be it that night. It wasn't sleazy like it sounds, although it could have been. Sometimes it was. But Natalie—that was her name—was different. You remind me of her in a way. Sweet, innocent, but in a cute, genuine sort of way.”

Maureen wasn't sure how to take that. She didn't like being compared to some girl she assumed was Taylor's ex. At the same time, she could tell how much this girl meant to him. With a tiny nod, she asked, “So... what happened after you met her?”

“Well, we started dating. It was tough, you know, because she lived in Georgia and she was in high school. But we talked on the phone a lot and tried to see each other as often as we could. It was just really refreshing to be with someone who was so far outside the world I lived in, you know? I mean, we were constantly around all of these other musicians, celebrities, record execs... but Natalie was just a normal girl.

“We had been together for about a year when things with the record company started to get really bad. They just didn't get it—didn't get _us_. It was a constant fight, trying to stay motivated to keep writing and recording, knowing they were going to hate everything we did. We spent a lot of time in Los Angeles, and I made friends with... well, it sounds cheesy to say, but the wrong crowd, I guess. I started drinking more, sneaking into clubs with them, and then doing drugs with them. Pot helped me relax, but it was the coke that I really liked. It made me feel invincible. All my worries, all the record company crap... none of it mattered when I was high.” Taylor paused and glanced at Maureen. He frowned. “I'm sorry, I know that sounds awful, but... well, it's the truth.”

Maureen shrugged, hoping her face didn't reveal how she really felt. “It's okay. So that's how you got into drugs?”

“Yeah,” Taylor replied with a nod. “Well, you can imagine, I guess, that Natalie didn't like it. I couldn't lie to her about it, and she could already tell when we talked that something was different. She tried to understand, though, since she knew what the band was going through. But it was still this constant fight.”

“I can understand that...” Maureen mumbled.

“I had a feeling you might,” Taylor replied with a smirk. It faded quickly as he continued his story. “So we fought and fought, but we were both too stubborn to give up on the relationship. She came to visit us out in LA once. We went out to a party together and we both got really fucked up. I guess she wanted to understand, or she thought if she tried it too... if she was part of my new little world... then she wouldn't lose me. I honestly don't remember much about that night, but I know we really screwed up. We didn't use a condom and... well, you can fill in the rest.”

Maureen's eyes widened. Taylor had a child out there somewhere? She felt like this was something she probably should have known about him.

Taylor ran a hand through his hair and took a shaky breath. “So... when our parents found out, they pretty much forced us to get married. I mean, we had to, didn't we? It seemed like the thing to do, to try to make things right. We threw a wedding together, and then we all—all four of us, Ike and Zac, too—moved out to New York to try to start our own record label. And to start a new life, too, I guess. It felt really good at the time. I really thought I could get myself cleaned up, be a good husband and father...”

He trailed off, and Maureen reached out to touch his arm. She didn't know what he was going to say next, but whatever it was, it must have been even worse than what he'd said so far. She was worried, but more than that, she wanted to comfort him.

“She only had two months left,” Taylor finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just two months. But she went into labor early and... and neither of them made it.”

Maureen's eyes widened. She could see that Taylor was close to tears, and she pulled him closer. He sighed, but only one tear fell. She supposed it had been so long that he didn't really have any tears left to shed over it.

After a moment, Taylor pulled away. “So... that was the beginning and end of my marriage. Her family blames me, of course. Somehow my drug habit clearly caused it... and I don't know, maybe it did. Maybe that one time was enough to cause problems with the baby, and that was my fault, too. Natalie never would have tried anything like that if it weren't for me... so, I guess I am to blame.”

Maureen shook her head, but she couldn't find the words to disagree with him. In a way, it was his fault, but she had a feeling he'd beaten himself up for it far more than necessary.

“So,” Taylor said, taking a deep breath. “What's your story?”

“It's nothing like yours, really,” Maureen replied.

Taylor gave her a weak smile. “That's okay. We're not comparing them. There are no winners. Or losers. Just... us.”

Maureen nodded, then took a deep breath of her own. “Well, you know how I said I grew up really... sheltered?”

Taylor nodded.

“That's only part of the truth,” Maureen admitted. “My father is—was—a traveling preacher. He was... very devout. Overzealous. A lot of the time, I was homeschooled, because he didn't trust the outside world. When he did send me to school, it was just to avoid suspicion. I think a big part of the reason we moved around so much was his paranoia. And we never really had much money, either, so whenever there was an opportunity for some odd job he could do while he built up his church again, he would take it. When I left for college, we lived in Arkansas, but I guess they moved to Oklahoma at some point.”

“You guess?” Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, I didn't just _leave_ for college. I ran away. Daddy was so mad when he found out I applied, and he forbid me to go. Of course, that only made me want to go even more. I just _had_ to get out. I didn't see any other choice.”

Taylor's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything.

“So, umm, my mom called a few days ago to tell me that Dad was in the hospital. And then... well, he died. That weird dress I had on yesterday was what I wore to the funeral. To make a long story short, it didn't go very well. It was made very clear that certain members of his church... well, basically the entire church... didn't want me there. So I called you.”

Taylor nodded slowly. “So... I guess that explains the Bible verses. I had a pretty religious upbringing, too, but I guess it wasn't anything like yours.”

“I can't imagine many people have a childhood like mine,” Maureen replied with a wry chuckle. “I mean, you know those tv shows about those really strict Mormon sects? They hit really, really close to home for me. It was really just my dad, and a couple of his followers, not a total cult, but...”

“But it was still a tough way to grow up,” Taylor finished for her.

“Something like that,” she replied. “I guess we've both got a few skeletons in our closet, though.”

Taylor gave her a tiny smile. “Not anymore. I mean, I'm sure we both have more secrets, but maybe... well, I think it's good to clear the air a bit, don't you?”

“Yeah,” Maureen replied, hesitantly curling up into Taylor's arms. “I guess it is.”


	27. Our Choices Seal Our Fate

After Taylor's confession, Maureen could feel the tides shift between them. She wasn't sure what that change meant, but she was certain it had happened. Something about Taylor still worried— even scared—her, but she was beginning to see him differently. By Friday, she had reached no new conclusions about him. All she knew for certain was that Taylor truly was different—more different, even, than she had realized the first time she'd met him. He was simply like no one else she'd ever met, and he wasn't the sort of person you could judge based on just the things he revealed to you at first. Below the surface, there was so much more to him.

Maureen could relate to that, and she supposed that was why she was willing to give Taylor a second chance.

Taylor, for his part, had seemingly made it his one and only mission in life to make Maureen's last few days in Tulsa unforgettable. She had a feeling he was really just trying to keep her distracted so that she wouldn't spend much time thinking about either of their problems. If that was the truth, she decided she was fine with that. It all came rushing back to her every time she climbed into bed, anyway, and kept her tossing and turning all night long until she finally fell asleep in the early hours of the morning.

On her last full day there, she slept in especially late, not even caring what Taylor might have thought of that. Maureen found that after everything that they'd shared, she really had no desire to impress him anymore. Whatever Taylor thought of her, he could keep that to himself. It was really no concern to her at all.

When she finally pulled herself out of bed at an hour that was almost more accurately called afternoon than morning, she was surprised to find herself alone in the apartment. She didn't check Taylor's bathroom, but he was nowhere to be found in any other room, and it wasn't like there were a lot of places for him to hide. Taylor definitely wasn't there.

She wasn't sure what that meant. Surely Taylor wouldn't just _leave_. Maureen supposed there was nothing to do but wait for him to return. After a few minutes of searching around for a bag of coffee and then fiddling with his fancy machine, she had some expensive roast brewing. While it finished, she decided to take a quick shower. Once that was done, she wandered back into the kitchen in a t-shirt and jeans, with a towel still wrapped around her hair, and poured herself a cup of coffee. It was good—very good. It made Maureen dread returning to the usually burnt and poorly prepared coffee in the Starbucks nearest her dorm.

The fact that she was returning to Chicago only a day later hadn't totally sunk in. It still seemed so far off in the future. Maureen wondered if this was how people usually felt at the end of a vacation. Even if the trip has been unpleasant, it so quickly becomes routine that the idea of leaving it is hard to imagine. Everything she and Taylor had been through in just a few days... it felt like a lifetime. She didn't know how she could possibly just leave and go back to her normal life after all of that, but she knew that she had to.

Maureen was on her second cup of coffee and contemplating whether she would need to cook her own lunch when the door finally swung open and Taylor walked in.

“Go for a morning run?” Maureen asked, highly doubting that sort of exercise was a part of Taylor's routine at all.

He shook his head. “No... I just need to go into the office for a bit.”

“In the morning?” She asked, not entirely sure she was buying his explanation. Something about it seemed strange.

Taylor ignored her for a moment, and when she followed his eyes, she realized it was because he'd noticed the coffee. He rushed to the kitchen and poured himself a cup, and didn't speak again until he'd joined her on the couch with his cup of what was now rather lukewarm coffee.

“I haven't really gotten a lot of work done this week,” Taylor admitted. “I know it's our week off, but there are still things we need to take care of. And I'm not blaming you for distracting me... of all the distractions I could possibly have, you're the best. But I did need to go in for a little bit this morning. Check my mail, make some phone calls... that sort of thing.”

Maureen nodded, but she was certain there was something Taylor wasn't telling her. For all his rambling, it still seemed he was leaving out some crucial piece of the truth. She had no clue what it might be, and even less of a clue how to get it out of him, so she decided not to press the issue.

“Anyway,” Taylor said, setting his coffee cup down with barely two sips gone from it. “Do you want to go get some lunch? I should have left you something for breakfast... left a note, at least. Something.”

Maureen shook her head. “I mean, yes. Lunch would be good. But I was fine on my own. Honestly.”

Taylor looked at Maureen for a moment, as though he were trying to decide whether or not she was telling him the truth. After a moment's pause, he nodded. “Well... okay. But I should still take you out and make sure your last full day in Tulsa is as awesome as it can possibly be. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Maureen replied, although she still felt a little suspicious.

As she got dressed and put on her makeup, she rolled over the events of the morning in her mind and tried to make sense of them. Taylor was acting strangely, there was no doubt about that. But when _didn't_ Taylor act strangely? Maureen hated herself for thinking it, but she couldn't help wondering if he was high. She didn't smell alcohol on him, so she doubted he was drunk. If he was high, though, how would she know? 

She hated that it was even a possibility that she had to consider, but she knew that it was.

As they made their way around Tulsa, eating lunch at what Taylor assured her was one of the best cafes in town and seeing what few sights they'd somehow managed to miss during the last few days, Maureen kept a close eye on him. If he was high, she was certain there must be _some_ sign that even she would be able to detect. What it was, she didn't know, but she hoped that when it appeared, she would somehow be able to recognize it for what it was.

What she would do after that, she wasn't sure. She supposed she had to confront him, but she really hadn't planned that far ahead.

They stayed out on the town all day, finally winding up at an Italian restaurant for dinner. Maureen didn't even want to consider the amount of money Taylor must have spent on feeding her over the past few days, especially since it seemed obvious that all the restaurants he was choosing were expensive. She'd managed to convince him to let her pay for lunch, but she had a feeling she couldn't have paid for this dinner if she'd wanted to.

It was during dinner that Taylor's mood changed yet again, suddenly shifting from the excitable, nervous state he'd been in all day to something closer to melancholy. Was this him coming down from his high? Maureen didn't really know what that phrase meant, having only picked it up from television and movies, but watching Taylor gave her some idea of what that might look like to witness. Had he truly been high all day? She didn't want to ask, but...

“Taylor,” Maureen said with a sigh, the word making him jump a little in his chair. “You've been acting... strange all day.”

“Have I?” He asked, then eyed Maureen. “You think I'm on something, don't you?”

Maureen looked down. “I... I don't know. I don't even know what that would look like. But... what am I supposed to think when you're being, frankly, even more weird than usual?”

Taylor sighed and pushed his plate away. “You know, it really hurts that you would even ask me that.”

“I didn't ask. I thought about it, yes. But I was truly trying _not_ to ask.”

“It was heavily implied,” Taylor countered, his eyes narrowing. 

Maureen sunk down in her chair, realizing how badly she'd offended him. She thought she remembered something from some daytime tv show... something about defensiveness... and that certainly seemed to fit Taylor's actions right then. She didn't dare ask again; her mind was made up. He was high.

His eyes still narrow slits, Taylor glanced off into the distance for a few minutes. Maureen didn't even dare touch her food as he drifted further and further away into his mind. She feared what might happen when he returned.

“I'm not,” Taylor finally said. “I'm not high. I get why you would think that, though. And I realize I can't prove that I'm not. It hurts that you would jump to that conclusion, but it's not like it's the first time. I guess I give everyone good reason to just assume the worst from me.”

Maureen nodded softly, unsure of what to say at all.

“Can we just drop it and enjoy the rest of our dinner?” Taylor asked.

“Yes,” Maureen squeaked out. “And... I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Taylor replied, although Maureen could see by the look on his face that it was anything but.

This was why she didn't want to be involved with him. She couldn't handle the mood swings and the guilt trips that somehow she knew were a part of having an addict in your life. She'd picked up enough from television and her introduction to psychology class to know that much. If she kept Taylor in her life, these constant shifts and battles would persist. Maureen knew that, without question. He had been so sweet, though, that she also knew it wouldn't be easy to cut ties... again.

They ate the rest of their dinner in awkward silence, and Taylor didn't even let Maureen consider ordering dessert before telling the waitress he was ready for the check. It was just as well, Maureen decided, because she really didn't have an appetite left at all after that conversation.

The drive back to Taylor's apartment was just as awkward. Neither of them spoke the entire time, although millions of thoughts were swirling around Maureen's mind and screaming to be let free. She didn't dare speak a single one of them, though, for fear of Taylor's reaction. 

His face remained fixed in an expression that she couldn't read at all. After pulling his car into the parking garage, he swung it into park and relaxed in his seat. Maureen's heart beat quickly, wondering—no, fearing—what Taylor would do next.

“Maureen,” he finally said. “I'm sorry I got so upset with you. I've... had a lot on my mind today. With you leaving tomorrow, and everything that we've talked about... I stayed up all night thinking about it all, and I made a decision. Maybe it was kind of rash, but it feels right. And I think it'll explain why I was so upset when you assumed that I was... that I was high.”

Maureen could only nod, although she wasn't sure she understood a single thing Taylor had said.

“It'll make sense, I promise,” Taylor added. “Let's just go inside. It's something I really have to show you for you to get it.”

That only scared her more, but she could see no other option besides following him, if for no other reason than all of her things that were still several floors up in his guest room. She couldn't bring herself to walk that closely to him, though, as they made their way inside and up the elevator to his apartment. Once they were inside and the door shut behind them, Taylor grasped Maureen's shoulders. She trembled a little under his grasp and she hoped he didn't notice.

“Stay here for a second, okay?” Taylor asked. “I'll come get you when I'm ready.”

Maureen was perfectly happy to stay by the door. She didn't want to follow Taylor _anywhere_ when he was acting so strangely.

From where she stood, she had a perfect view down the hallway. She watched Taylor walk back and forth between his bedroom and the bathroom a few times, but she had no clue what he was doing. Finally, he walked back down the hallway and motioned for her to follow him.

“Come on,” he said, waving toward the bathroom.

Maureen raised an eyebrow but didn't speak.

Taylor sighed. “Please? I know this is all strange, but it'll make sense, I promise. It'll make up for me blowing up at you.”

She could hear so many emotions in his voice—desperation, frustration... there were too many to name, but they were enough to make her want to follow him. With a tiny nod, Maureen walked down the hallway and into the bathroom. What she saw there made her gasp. 

Stacked upon the counter were several small plastic bags. Maureen wasn't naïve enough not to guess what the white powder inside was. A few nearly empty pill bottles sat beside the baggies, and she didn't really want to know what those were, but she could easily guess that they weren't prescription—at least, not _Taylor's_ prescription.

“W-why... why am I looking at all your... drugs?” She stuttered out.

“Because you're going to watch me flush them,” Taylor replied. “I know, I know. It's a meaningless gesture, but it doesn't feel like it to me. This is everything I've got. Everything I had stashed here, everything I'd stored on the bus and in the office, too. That's really why I went there so early.”

Maureen gaped at him for a moment, then made an effort to collect herself. Not quite ready to meet Taylor's eyes, she stared at a point on his cheek as she said, “You could buy more.”

“I could,” he replied with a nod. “You're right. That's why I know this is going to look meaningless, but you have to realize how much money... not just money. How much _security_ , how much... happiness—shallow, fleeting happiness—I'm flushing away here. This is what I depend on, you know? And yeah, I could replace it. But I won't. I don't _care_ about letting go of all this. I need it to be gone and to get rid of it myself. Not to be forced into some detox place by the hospital after a bad night. I need to take this first step myself, and I need you to see how meaningful it really is. How important it is that I'm choosing to stop.”

Maureen nodded. She knew she would never fully understand, because she hadn't been through addiction like Taylor had, but his words made sense in a way.

“Okay,” she said. “Let's do it, then.”

With a nod, Taylor picked up the first baggie. He opened it, then shook his head and resealed it, tossing baggie and all into the toilet bowl. The rest followed after it, one by one, and then the pills were dumped out of their containers, the capsules splashing in the water as they landed. Maureen watched it all just as transfixed as Taylor was. Once it was all in the bowl, he pushed the lever and watched it all swirl down the drain. 

Maureen glanced up at his face and saw nothing there but resolution. Whatever doubts she had that Taylor meant this, they vanished with just one look. This was it. Taylor was quitting.


	28. So Far From Alone

After that, Taylor seemed different to Maureen yet again. It was a Taylor she hadn't seen before at all. He was quiet, which was possibly the scariest thing of all. But there was still a nervous energy below the surface, threatening to bubble up. Maureen could see that, and so she sat up late with him, drinking coffee and watching late night television. She thought perhaps he would open up, but he didn't. 

She was surprised to realize just how much she cared. 

When Maureen considered everything Taylor had done in the time she'd known him, she realized he had truly done very little to hurt her. He had lied, that was true, but she could sort of understand why he would want to keep his addiction and the history behind it secret. With what little she knew about addiction, she knew, rationally, that he hadn't truly been in control of his actions the night he'd called her high. That was the problem, though. As long as he was high, he would do things that he didn't mean to do, things that he probably didn't even _want_ to do.

But he wasn't high anymore, was he? 

Maureen watched him carefully, looking for any sign that he was truly different. He was always in some sort of constant motion, it seemed, his fingertips tapping on his leg, on the coffee table, on the edge of the couch. She wondered if he was in pain, if his body was going through some sort of detox right in front of her. Perhaps that was why he was so quiet. She just didn't know, and she didn't even know how to begin asking without possibly upsetting him again.

Since she had no answers for herself, and no idea how to get them, she eventually gave in and went to bed. Her flight left in the afternoon, and she was sure Taylor would want to take her for one last lunch together before putting her on the plane. His desire to make her happy seemed to be one thing that stayed the same no matter what. 

Sure enough, as soon as Maureen stumbled into the kitchen in the morning, before she could even pour herself a cup of coffee, Taylor was telling her all about a restaurant on the way to the airport that he thought they should stop at for lunch. At least he seemed more talkative, Maureen decided. Perhaps a little rest was all he needed to get back to his usual self, whoever that really was.

After polishing off her coffee, Maureen hurried to shower, get dressed and get all of her things packed. She hadn't packed much, since there wasn't a great deal of room on the bus for luggage, but she was still nervous that she would forget and leave something behind. Everything about this day made her nervous; she'd never flown before, after all. When she left Arkansas, she did so in a bus, because that was all she could afford with the money she'd been stealing from her dad in preparation for... something. When she started picking up loose change and bills around their house, only drawing the line at skimming from the collection plate, she hadn't been sure _why_. It was a habit she developed long before college was even a possibility. Maureen supposed she had always known, somewhere deep in her mind, that she had to get out.

While her thoughts wandered, she continued folding her clothes and stuffing them back into her suitcase. She was paying so little attention that she nearly folded up and packed the old gray dress she'd worn to the funeral, but she snapped back to reality just as she added it to the pile of clothes.

“Well, I don't need _that_ ,” she thought out loud.

“Don't need what?” Taylor asked from the doorway, making Maureen jump.

She spun around to face him and held up the dress. “This. I have absolutely no plans to ever wear it again.”

“Can't say that I blame you,” Taylor replied. “It's not exactly on trend.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Taylor replied, grinning, “and I've got an idea. Follow me and bring the dress.”

Taylor turned and walked out of the room, and although she was nervous, Maureen followed behind him. He lead her to the kitchen, where she found him brandishing a large pair of scissors. She looked at him, then at the dress in her hand, and understood exactly what he had in mind. 

With a grin on her face, she grabbed the scissors and laid the dress out across the kitchen counter. Maureen dove right in, not wasting any time. She cut a jagged line right up the middle of the dress, the large, heavy scissors easily slicing through both the front and back. Maureen didn't stop there. She cut each piece of the dress into smaller and smaller pieces, until there was little left but gray cotton confetti. 

“Watch this,” Taylor said, the words a sudden reminder to Maureen that he was still there, watching her. 

He grabbed a handful of the dress pieces and tossed them into the air, making them look even more like confetti. Maureen giggled madly and followed his lead. For several minutes, the two of them danced around the kitchen, tossing around the confetti like crazy people. There was something strangely cathartic about it. As the last few pieces drifted to the floor, she lunged at Taylor and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” she said, letting out a sigh but never loosening her grip on him. “I really needed that.”

“I thought you might,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

Maureen was so relaxed and happy, she didn't even try to resist or pull away from the kiss.

****

A few hours later, after cleaning up the dress confetti and eating a nice, relaxing lunch, Maureen and Taylor were finally at the airport. Taylor sensed her apprehension, she was sure, and he stayed by her side through the whole check-in process, promising her that he would stay as long as he was allowed, until it was time for her to board the plane alone. Maureen hoped he knew how much she appreciated that, even if she wasn't entirely sure how to put it into words.

Maureen bought a magazine to occupy herself during the flight, and she found herself nervously flipping through it as she waited to hear her flight number called. She hoped Taylor didn't think she was ignoring him, but she could feel his eyes on her constantly as she stared down at the pages she wasn't truly reading.

“Nervous?” He asked.

She looked up and nodded.

Taylor smiled. “I was the first time I had to fly, too.”

“But you were a lot younger,” Maureen replied.

“I was,” he said with a nod. “Actually, the first time I ever flew was when we moved to South America. I don't really remember that flight at all. I just remember Zac crying most of the way there. The first one I really remember was when we flew to California to talk to the record label. And then I was nervous for an entirely different reason.”

Maureen shook her head. “I can't even imagine.”

“And I can't imagine living a normal life,” he said. “It's all a matter of perspective.”

“I guess... I just really can't even imagine. I mean, my life has been... pretty interesting the last few days, but now it's just back to college. Back to class, and back to boring old Maureen.”

“After that show the other night? I wouldn't call Maureen boring at all,” Taylor said with a laugh.

Maureen felt herself blushing. “Please... please don't remind me. I don't _ever_ want to do anything like that again.”

Taylor's face turned serious. “And I don't ever want to see you do anything like that again. It was... really not fun to watch. Knowing that I've put people through even worse than that... it just really made me think, you know?”

She nodded, even though she wasn't entirely sure that she did know.

“I don't want to do that again,” Taylor said definitively. “So I'm not going to. I know, it's still just words, with no real actions behind them. But I mean it. I don't want to hurt people like I have before. I don't want to scare people. I don't want to hurt _myself_ anymore.”

“That's good,” Maureen replied, not knowing what else to say. “So what happens now? I mean, I go back to school and you...”

“Go back on tour,” Taylor finished for her. “I've still got a few days off, and then we're on tour until close to Thanksgiving. I think we're talking about doing some Christmas events after that, but otherwise, that's it for the rest of my year.”

“Sounds busy. Busier than my year.”

“I guess so,” Taylor said. “Do you have plans for Christmas break? Or Thanksgiving?”

Maureen shook her head. “No. I mean, I usually spend the breaks with my roommate. We haven't discussed it, but I suppose that's what I'll do this time, too.”

Taylor looked thoughtful, but he didn't speak right away. Maureen wondered if he was considering inviting her to spend her breaks with him. That was insane, though. Surely he would see that. They weren't together, and he should have realized that she had no desire at all to return to Oklahoma. To her relief, he didn't say any more about the subject.

Before either of them could say much more, a voice came over the PA system and announced that the flight to Chicago was boarding. That was it, Maureen realized. Her time in Tulsa with Taylor had come to an end. To her surprise, she found that she wanted to stay, but she tried to blame that on her nervousness about flying. 

Taylor walked with her as far as he could, close by but not quite touching her. When they reached the end of the line, he placed his hand gently on her back.

“You'll be alright,” he said. “Flying isn't so bad. But call me when you get there, okay? Just so I won't worry about you.”

Maureen nodded. “I will. And do you think... maybe you could call me every now and then? I think I'd like to know how you're doing, too.”

She left out the entire reason why she would be worried about him, but she knew that Taylor understood. Maureen truly didn't know if he would stay clean this time, but she hoped that he would. That glimmer of hope made her want to talk to him again, want to hear the voice she'd heard in the beginning. She'd nearly fallen for that guy, and she desperately hoped there was some way to truly bring him back.

“I will,” he replied. “We'll be okay, I think. Both of us.”

“I hope so.”

Taylor took Maureen's hands in his and stared down at her seriously. “I know so. For the first time... I really _want_ to get better. Not just because I need to, not because other people want me to... for myself. But... in a way, for you, too.”

Maureen tilted her head to the side.

“I mean, because of you,” Taylor said. “Seeing you like that... I don't know, it just made me think. About... about all the hurt I've caused. To so many people over the years, and to you. It just gave me the last push I needed to stop being so selfish, I guess.”

Maureen was speechless. She stared up at Taylor, her mouth hanging open slightly, her body frozen on the spot. She couldn't move at all, not even when she saw Taylor leaning down to kiss her. It was a quick, chaste little kiss, but it still left her reeling.

A voice came over the PA system again, but Maureen couldn't hear a word they said. 

“That's your flight,” Taylor said, smiling down at her and brushing a piece of hair from her face. “Go on. And call me later, okay?”

Maureen nodded dumbly and began to back away from Taylor. She watched him for as long as she could, until she was forced to turn a corner and could no longer see him. Once he was out of her sight, she could almost convince herself the entire weekend had been a dream.

But it hadn't. She was in Oklahoma, about to board a plane for the first time, and fly away from the guy she had a sinking feeling she was still falling for.


	29. Watch Me Come Undone

Two weeks passed and Taylor would have freely acknowledged that he felt miserable if anyone asked. No, worse than than that—he felt like absolute shit. There was simply no other word in the English language that adequately described all the aches and pains, both mental and physical, that he was experiencing.

Still, as the days wore on, Taylor did not question at all _why_ he had chosen to put himself through that torture.

When he had watched Maureen teetering on the edge, so close to self destruction, something snapped inside of him. Something, like a light switch he'd turned off and ignored a decade ago, was flipped on suddenly and without warning. The curtains were thrown back, light flooded in and, for the first time, Taylor saw himself clearly.

He saw that everyone was right. He was an addict and he needed to stop. So he did.

The decision had been rash, but the motivation behind it was real, raw and true. He didn't for a moment doubt it.

At least, he did not doubt it while he was home. He had thought it would be more difficult then, holed up between four walls with nothing to do. It wasn't, though. Taylor drank more coffee than ever before, and found that he could be insanely productive. He cleaned his entire apartment and two storage rooms at their studio in just a matter of days. He would have kept right on cleaning, too, had their tour not resumed.

And that was when it got hard.

It should have been easier, with so much work to do and so little time alone with his thoughts. But it wasn't. Taylor had not yet found the words to tell everyone—or anyone at all, in fact—that he had quit. Some of them, he knew, would make far too big a deal of it, and others simply wouldn't believe it at all. He had no desire to listen to their concerns or their judgment. For the moment, at least, Taylor decided it was best to keep the truth to himself.

This became a problem, of course, when band and crew members decided to party. Few of them partied as hard as Taylor; his family had weeded those out years ago in a vain attempt to slow Taylor down. It hadn't worked, and there remained plenty on the tour who enjoyed going out to a bar or two after a show. In the past, Taylor would have joined them every time.

Even that was too much temptation, Taylor was sure. If he was going to quit, he was truly going to quit. He couldn't let himself be near any little thing that might drag him back down. Even the beers they usually drank backstage after a show seemed suddenly too much to him. He always made excuses to go back to the bus early, and if anyone noticed that change, they thought better than to comment on it.

He chose to share a hotel with Zac, because, again, it just seemed the safest course of action. Zac rarely drank anything stronger than a beer, and even the pot smoking Taylor had hypocritically criticized him for was a fairly rare occurrence. Rooming with Zac was safe, he decided.

Their first hotel stay of the last leg of the tour didn't come for several days, and by that time Taylor was really starting to feel himself coming unraveled. The cramped quarters, the partying, the crowds he was suddenly struggling to handle without panicking... it was all becoming a little more than he could take.

They checked into the hotel late, and Taylor rushed to take a long, scalding shower, while Zac ran off to play video games in one of the crew member's rooms.

Taylor cranked the shower up as hot as it would go. He wished he could actually burn himself with it, actually char and destroy the parts of himself that seemed to need some substance to survive. It was a stupid, impossible wish, he knew, but that didn't stop him from thinking it.

When he'd stayed under the shower's hot spray as long as he could stand, Taylor finally turned it off and stepped out into the bathroom. He found his toiletry bag and fumbled around in it for his deodorant. He located that easily enough, and his shaving cream too, but his razor remained elusive. He was sure Zac wouldn't mind sharing; Taylor probably didn't even need to ask. It was the principle of the matter, though. He was simply determined to find _his_.

In an uncharacteristic fit of rage, Taylor turned his toiletry bag upside down and shook it violently until all its contents were scattered around the room. Before he realized what was happening, a little plastic baggie came flying out, its side ripped open and the contents of it pouring out like a sudden burst of snow.

“Fuck!” Taylor cried out.

He thought he'd rid himself of it all, but here was one last little bit of coke, just taunting him. The stupid, addict part of his brain wanted to scoop it all up and snort as much of it as he could. It hurt—physically hurt—to watch it float away and coat the bathroom in a thin layer that looked like nothing more than dust.

Taylor growled again and threw his shaving cream at the wall, just because he could. This rage was a new feeling, a new symptom of his withdrawal, and it drained out of him as quickly as it had come, leaving Taylor in a heap on the floor.

Taylor hadn't even heard the hotel room door open, so he flinched in surprise when the bathroom door flew open.

“Tay?” Zac asked. “What are—”

He stopped in his tracks and stared down at Taylor. Taylor could only imagine how awful he must look, still wearing nothing but a towel and sitting on the floor of a hotel bathroom covered in cocaine and shaving cream. It was an absurd image, and that realization sent Taylor into a fit of laughter, which he supposed was just another high speed mood swing.

“What the _fuck_ happened in here?” Zac finally asked.

Taylor tried to silence his laughter long enough to speak, but it was a struggle. “I... I couldn't find my razor.”

Zac's eyes narrowed. “Just because you didn't have anything to cut it with, you decided to decorate the bathroom with it?”

“I didn't... I wasn't...” Taylor tried to protest, but his own mouth betrayed him and the words were lost in yet another round of laughter.

Zac just rolled his eyes and turned to walk out of the room.

“Wait, Zac..” Taylor called out. “I swear, it's not... I wasn't trying to...”

The words got caught in his throat again, but to Taylor's surprise, they weren't replaced with laughter. Instead, a strangled sob came out of his mouth. It took Taylor a moment to recognize the sound for what it truly was, and longer still to realize tears were streaming down his face.

Zac paused, and for a moment, Taylor thought he was going to turn back around. He didn't. He walked out of the room, and Taylor remained on the floor, sobbing.

It was like an out of body experience for him. Taylor knew he was crying, but he didn't know why. It was just something that was happening to him, entirely out of his control. Taylor wanted desperately for it to stop. For once, not being in control of his body felt terrible.

He was still crying, his shoulders quivering under the force of it, when Zac returned. In his hand was the small vacuum cleaner provided by the hotel, and Taylor watched through watery eyes as his brother cleaned up all the evidence of his meltdown. Taylor knew he should help, but his body would not cooperate. He could do little more than watch as Zac vacuumed up all the coke and wiped up the shaving cream.

When the mess was gone and the bathroom was as close to clean as it was going to get, Zac tossed down his washcloth and sat down in the floor in front of Taylor.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

Taylor shrugged. “It's like I said. I couldn't find my razor.”

“To shave,” Zac added.

“To shave.” Taylor nodded.

Zac sighed, the sound seeming to take all of his energy just to be forced out of his body. He eyed Taylor long and hard, his eyes scrutinizing him. Taylor hadn't felt so judged since Maureen had come so close to accusing him of being high. He didn't like it, but he knew he deserved it. At least the worst of the sobs seemed to be subsiding, although tears still flowed freely down his face.

“Okay,” Zac finally said, exhaling hard. “I believe you. God knows why, with all the evidence against you, but I believe you.”

Taylor nodded. He tried to force his face into a grateful smile, but even that small movement hurt.

“You wanna tell me the rest of the story, though?” Zac asked gently.

“It was... like I said, I was looking for my razor. I c-couldn't find it, and it pissed me off. I just snapped and I... but I thought, I mean, I threw it out. All of it. I guess not.”

Taylor wasn't sure he'd strung any of those words together in an order that actually made sense. Judging by Zac's wide-eyed expression, he hadn't. Taylor wasn't sure he had the energy to try it all over again.

“You threw it out?” Zac asked.

Taylor nodded and instantly regretted it. “I... god, my fucking head.”

Zac jumped up and flung open the small medicine cabinet above the sink. Taylor decided that if there was a hotel supplied razor in there, he was going to shoot himself. The way his head was pounding, he was pretty sure a bullet through the frontal lobe couldn't possibly make it hurt any worse.

“Here,” Zac said, handing Taylor a little packet of aspirin.

Taylor doubted that would help much, but he appreciated the effort. He ripped the packet open and swallowed the pills down dry, a skill he'd picked up as a teenager who needed lots of motion sickness medicine to cope with the planes, buses and vans he was constantly being shoved onto.

He was sure that he sounded bitter about it all, but he truly wasn't. In his darker moments, not unlike this current moment in time, Taylor did wonder how his life would be different if he hadn't found fame so young... or at all. He decided it wouldn't be much different. No matter what, he would have found a way to fuck everything up.

“Come on,” Zac said, interrupting the thoughts Taylor hadn't even realized he'd gotten lost in. “Why don't we get you into bed? A little sleep will help your head.”

Taylor mumbled something vaguely affirmative and accepted Zac's outstretched hand. He pulled Taylor to his feet easily, leaving Taylor's head spinning. After a moment to regain his bearings, at least as much as possible, Taylor followed Zac into the room.

In silence, the two of them dressed for bed. Taylor's every move was a struggle, even the slightest stretch to open his suitcase or pull his legs into his boxers seemed to take more energy than he possessed. The distance from the light switch to the bed might as well have been the length of a marathon.

Zac didn't speak again until they were both in their beds.

“So you really quit, huh?”

“Yeah,” Taylor replied. “Or do you think I'm faking all of this?”

Zac laughed softly. “Man, I don't know. I've seen your worse than this when you swore you were just fine. You telling me it feels just as bad off that stuff as it feels on it?”

“Something like that,” Taylor replied with a weak laugh of his own.

“So why do you do it?”

“To forget,” Taylor said. It was his stock answer. “But honestly, I don't even remember why I thought it would help.”

“So you're done forgetting? Done running from your past?”

Taylor sighed. “I'm not running. Maybe I was, though. Running in circles, maybe. Now I'm just... ready to move on, I guess.”

“That's good,” Zac said, and Taylor swore he could almost hear his brother's smile. “That's really good.”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Is It because of that girl you've been seeing?”

Taylor turned toward Zac, even though the room was too dark to see his face. “What do you know about Maureen?”

“Not much. Just that you smile a lot when you talk to her or about her. Or when anyone mentions her at all. I haven't you see smile like that since... well, not for a long time.”

Taylor knew what Zac was going to say, and he was glad that he had stopped himself. The ache wasn't as raw as it had been, but it was still there. Perhaps sharing the truth with Maureen had relieved him of some of his burden, but Taylor didn't think it would ever truly be gone. It was a pain he would just have to learn how to carry... on his own, with no chemical aids.

“She's different... Maureen, I mean,” Taylor finally said. “Just so different from the type of girls I usually... well. She could do so much better, and I'm pretty sure she knows it. She's told me to get lost a few times. But I just... _can't_. It's like I have to prove to myself that I _can_ be good enough for a girl like her.”

“But you're not just quitting _for_ her, are you?” Zac asked.

Taylor sighed. “No... I mean, she gave me the final push, but... it was just what I needed. To really see myself. And I just don't _like_ me.”

“Well, no offense, Tay,” Zac said, “but I don't like you either. Not when you're fucked up. This Taylor isn't so bad, though. Can we keep him?”

“I hope so,” Taylor replied. “I really hope so.”

With his headache finally easing off, Taylor rolled over and went to sleep.


	30. Maybe We Forgot All The Things We Are

Maureen fell all too easily back into her life at Northwestern. It was almost as though the week in Oklahoma hadn't happened at all and her life hadn't once again been turned upside down.

But it had. It mostly certainly had.

She really didn't understand any of what had happened. Maureen wanted so badly to believe that her mother had changed and that, somehow, some sort of relationship between the two of them could be salvaged. Without her father's dominating presence, she hoped that much was possible. She should have known it was too much to hope for. It just wasn't possible; Maureen had burned those bridges and put too much distance between herself and that life to ever go back.

And then there was Taylor...

Maureen didn't know what to think of him. No, that wasn't right. Maureen had too many thoughts about him, too many mixed up, confusing thoughts that she didn't understand. She knew without a doubt that he was bad for her. He had tested that theory, but Maureen held fast to it, even when Taylor had his moments of niceness. Beneath his dangerous exterior, though, lurked even more issues, issues that Maureen knew should send her running.

Somehow, they seemed to do the opposite.

Taylor needed help. Anyone could see that. Now that he had opened up to Maureen and told her the awful truth behind his demons, it was so much more obvious to her that he was just a boy in pain. She didn't think she had a maternal instinct, but she found herself wanting to take care of Taylor. It surprised her, perhaps more than anything else, to realize she felt that way.

For the first few days after returning to Chicago, she did not hear from Taylor at all. Maureen sent him a text to let him know that she had made it home safely, and that had been the extent of their communication. She was more disappointed by that than she expected to be.

When they finally did begin to communicate more regularly, it was only by text. That was different, and Maureen was sure it _meant_ something, but she wasn't sure what. She was so out of her depth with Taylor that she didn't even know how to formulate the right questions to get the answers she needed. She didn't even know _what_ answers she needed.

Thanksgiving was fast approaching, and Maureen found herself nervous about it. Normally, she would spend the holiday with Summer. She always planned road trips for the two of them in hopes of showing Maureen a little more of the outside world. Maureen had a feeling, though, that this year was going to be different.

When she finally had a moment free from working on her final projects, she decided to take a chance and call Taylor. It made her nervous, but she didn't know why. It seemed like she was crossing some sort of invisible line, a line that had suddenly appeared for reasons she didn't know or comprehend.

The phone rang several times before Taylor finally answered.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse, and Maureen thought he sounded very, very tired. She supposed that was to be expected after he'd been on tour for so long.

“Hey, Taylor,” Maureen said. “I'm glad I caught you.”

There was an almost imperceptible sigh on the other end. “I know... I've been really busy, and I just... well, I really don't have any good excuse for not calling you.”

“You don't need an excuse,” she replied. “We didn't make any agreement to call each other, and we don't have any sort of commitment.”

“I know, but...” Taylor sighed again. “I'm just trying to do this right and be a good person... be good to you.”

“Have I complained about the way you treat me?” Maureen asked.

“Recently? No, but... well, you have in the past, and I know you ought to complain even more than you have.”

Now it was Maureen's turn to sigh. “Maybe, maybe not. But I know you _are_ trying. I can see that. My only complaint is that I would like to actually talk to you. I care about you, and I want to know that you're okay. It's hard to do that when you're only texting me.”

“That's fair. That's more than fair. Do you really want to know the truth, though?”

“I wouldn't have asked if I didn't,” Maureen replied.

“Okay,” Taylor said. “In that case, I feel like absolute shit. Everything hurts, I feel like I want to crawl out of my own skin just to stop this constant headache and this awful itchy feeling. It's like my body is trying to eat itself from the inside out. I can't even hang out with the rest of the guys if they're drinking. I don't remember the last time I fell asleep before the sun came up. It's miserable, and I don't want you to see or hear me like this.”

Maureen took a deep breath. “Okay, that's... that's pretty bad. That's really bad.”

“Tell me about it,” Taylor replied, then sighed. “I'm sorry, I'm not... I don't want to snap at you. See? This is why it's so hard... I can't talk to you when I'm like this, Maur. I just can't. You'll like me even less than you did when I was high.”

“Frankly, Taylor, I'm not sure that's possible. I mean... at least you're being honest with me now.”

“I'm trying,” he said. “But I don't feel like me now. Everything is all mixed up and I just... I don't know. I don't really remember what it's like to just be me. When I was high at least sometimes I felt like myself. God, how fucked up is it that _that's_ when I felt okay?”

“I... I don't know,” Maureen replied. “It sounds really bad, though, but I guess maybe it takes a while. For your body to adjust, you know?”

“I feel okay when I'm with you,” Taylor admitted.

Maureen felt herself blushing, which was just silly since Taylor couldn't even see her. “I feel... I don't even know _what_ I feel when I'm with you.”

He chuckled softly. “I'm going to assume that's a good thing.”

“Sometimes it is,” Maureen replied.

Taylor sighed. “Maureen? I'm going to ask you something that totally contradicts what I just said about not wanting you to see me like this...”

“Okay...” Maureen replied, her heart beating faster. 

“Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Not yet, but I usually spend it with Summer, my roommate.”

“Oh, well, that's fine,” Taylor said, and Maureen could hear the obvious disappointment in his voice.

“It's not like I could afford to visit you anywhere,” Maureen said. “Not that I don't _want_ to, but...”

“It's okay,” Taylor cut her off. “You know I would pay your way out here, though. And I just thought... well, you were what gave me the push to do this, you know? Seeing you again... I think it would help. Give me a reminder why this pain is going to be worth it.”

Maureen sighed. She knew that one way or another, Taylor would talk to her into it. She didn't like his persuasiveness, but when she could hear so obviously that he was hurting and needed her, there really was no way for her to argue.

They discussed the theoretical details of a Thanksgiving trip to Tulsa for quite a while, and Maureen had to admit that it didn't sound bad. Taylor assured her multiple times that they wouldn't have to stay long at his family dinner and Maureen could leave whenever she wanted. If she didn't want to stay the whole weekend, Taylor would find some way to get her back to Chicago as soon as possible. Despite what reservations she might have had about the whole idea, it was clear to her that Taylor was trying to prove himself. She still didn't fully trust him, but his efforts seemed genuine. He _wanted_ to be better; he just wasn't always capable of it. The fact that he was trying meant a lot to her, and it made her want to take the trip to visit him again.

Maureen ended the conversation seconds after Summer walked into the room. Although Summer hadn't expressed any more obvious jealousy, Maureen still felt awkward about talking to Taylor in front of her, or even mentioning Taylor to her. 

“Talking to your boyfriend?” Summer asked only seconds after Maureen closed her phone.

“He's not my...” she replied, then sighed. “Yeah, whatever.”

Summer grinned slightly, and Maureen wasn't sure what to make of that.

“He asked me to spend Thanksgiving with him,” Maureen admitted.

Summer dropped the backpack she'd been riffling through and stared at Maureen, wide eyed. “Are you going? I mean, after everything that happened last time...”

“And none of that was Taylor's fault,” Maureen said. “The bad parts of the trip were all my family's fault. Taylor was... Taylor was nice. Supportive.”

It felt like they'd had this same conversation a dozen times, and Summer never seemed to be convinced that Taylor wasn't going to hurt Maureen. Truthfully, Maureen wasn't convinced of it either, but something made her want to give him another chance. She didn't think there was any way that she could possibly make Summer understand that.

“What if...” Maureen began, then shook her head. “This may sound crazy, but I _did_ tell Taylor that I usually spend Thanksgiving with you. What if I ask him if you can come?”

Summer's eyes widened even further. “No way. I mean, there's no way he'll say yes. He knows I'm a fan. He doesn't want to spend the holiday with some crazy Hanson fan, honey. He wants to spend it with his woman.”

“I'm not his woman,” Maureen replied, rolling her eyes. “And if there's someone else there, maybe that will keep him from getting the wrong idea.”

“So you just want me there for your own protection,” Summer said, smirking slightly.

“I guess you could say that,” she replied. “But I just... I feel like I need a little extra support. The way things are, though, Taylor might say no.”

Summer nodded. Maureen had shared with her only the most basic details of Taylor's confession and what he'd done afterward, but as a fan, Summer already knew a lot of the rumors. Maureen wanted to be angry with her for not telling her about Taylor's dead wife, but to her own surprise, she wasn't. In a strange way, Summer was trying to protect her from the truth, just like Taylor had tried. 

She wanted to be angry with both of them, but she knew that wouldn't accomplish anything. So she just... wasn't.

“Yeah, okay,” Summer finally replied with a huge smile. “You can ask him, but it's fine with me if he says no. I'd understand.”

“Okay,” Maureen replied with a smaller smile.

This was either going to be a really good idea or a really bad idea, she decided, and she truly had no idea which.


	31. The Gravity I've Fallen Into

Taylor had never in his life been more anxious for a tour to end. Even though they still had a few concerts left, mostly just around Oklahoma, before the end of the year, they were for all intents and purposes finished for the rest of 2010. There was nothing at all of any major importance on Taylor's schedule until the next year.

Except for one thing. Maureen's Thanksgiving visit.

A big part of Taylor just wanted to blame the fact that he was still detoxing for all the anxiety that he felt, but he knew that wasn't the entire reason for it. It was Maureen. Something about her just threw his entire world off its axis and always had. He couldn't explain it, nor could he ignore it.

In his lowest lows during the last month of the tour, he revisited his week with Maureen in his mind. It hadn't been perfect, but there were some good moments. Taylor had been able to prove himself a little by caring for Maureen when she needed him, and he had gained strength and courage from it. That courage failed him at times, but he only needed to think of Maureen to remember why he was putting himself through such hell. He didn't understand a lot about her, but the way he felt about her was very clear.

Maureen's feelings, however, were a complete mystery to him. At times, she seemed to return his affections. She stared at him like she couldn't even believe something so amazing was real, and it made Taylor want to be as good as she thought he was. At other times, though, she pushed him away and showed no trace of emotion. Taylor knew there were things about him that scared her, and with good reason. But he couldn't believe that she felt nothing at all for him.

She was just scared, he told himself. She was scared and inexperienced, and he was pushing her far, far too hard. Taylor couldn't help it. Maureen's affection might as well have been another drug for him. If he was honest with himself, that probably wasn't a healthy way to look at things, but he didn't know how else to explain it. He hung on her every word and lived to see her smile again. That was simply all there was to it, and he refused to believe it was bad or wrong to feel way.

After a few painful days back in Tulsa with her, it was finally time to pick her up from the airport. It had taken less persuading than Taylor expected to convince her to come visit on his dime, but finally, she had given in with one condition—that she could bring her roommate. Taylor thought that was a little strange, and it took everything in him not to make some lewd joke about college roommates. He was proud of himself for resisting that urge, but it didn't make him feel better about the entire strange situation.

That wasn't true, though. When Taylor really thought about everything he had put Maureen through, he could understand why she wouldn't want to be alone with him. Figuring that out made him feel better until he really thought about what it meant. Maureen didn't trust him. Maureen couldn't even stand the thought of being alone with him.

It made Taylor feel a little sick, but it was just one more reason that he had to change. He didn't want to be the kind of guy nice girls wouldn't be alone in a room with. He wanted to earn Maureen's trust, and he was going to use this weekend to do it.

He rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited for her to appear around the corner of the airport gate. It wasn't a large airport, but Taylor was still all jittery. Just like the first hit of something strong, he knew he would feel alright again the second he set eyes on Maureen. Taylor counted off the seconds after her flight's arrival, just to occupy his mind. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four and a half minutes, and _finally_ he saw a flash of bright blonde curls.

She was talking to a dark haired girl he didn't recognize, but Taylor had no doubt it was Maureen walking his way. When she flipped her hair back, caught his eye and smiled, Taylor's world began to spin again.

****

The drive back to his apartment was a little awkward, but Taylor tried not to read too much into it. He wondered if Maureen's roommate Summer, as he'd been told her name was, felt awkward or like the third wheel. Given how slowly his relationship, if it could even be called that, with Maureen was progressing, he wasn't so sure that Summer actually _was_ the odd woman out.

Still, Taylor did his best to talk to both of them, telling the girls more about Tulsa and about his plans for the weekend as he drove. He couldn't resist stealing little glances at Maureen. For the most part, she stared out the window or spun around in her seat to talk to Summer, but Taylor wasn't deterred. Once they were out of the highway traffic, Taylor reached across the console to grasp Maureen's hand. She trembled a little, but didn't pull back, and that gave Taylor hope.

Trying to stay on his best behavior, Taylor volunteered to carry in the girls' luggage. They, especially Summer, had far more than he'd realized when they left the airport, but Taylor was true to his word. He piled himself down with all of their bags and lead the way into the building and up to his floor.

The grand tour went a little more quickly this time since Maureen nearly took the lead from him. His apartment wasn't much, Taylor knew, at least not compared to some of the condos and houses he knew his money could buy if he really wanted. He was happy with a small apartment, though, and Summer seemed impressed enough by it.

Pushing open the door to the guest room, he said, “Now, I only have the one extra bed. So you girls can share if you want, but I would be more than happy to sleep on the couch so one of you can take my bed.”

Maureen scowled at that and shook her head. “I'm not kicking you out of your own bed.”

“I know you're not,” he replied, smirking. “You're not kicking me out, because I'm giving it up voluntarily.”

Maureen rolled her eyes, but to Taylor's relief, she didn't try to fight him any further. He knew he could out-stubborn anyone. It was only a matter of time before he wore her down and she stopped fighting entirely when he was only trying to do nice things for her.

While the girls settled in, Taylor contemplated what to do about dinner. He had originally planned all sorts of nice restaurants he wanted to take Maureen too, but he didn't think those plans would work as well with another girl tagging along. If Summer didn't already feel like the third wheel, she definitely would after an intimate candlelight dinner... for three. A romantic dinner just wasn't going to happen, Taylor decided. Instead, he ordered Chinese and settled in to wait for it to arrive while the girls showered.

Their flight had gotten in late, and Taylor knew from experience that they no doubt had only three priorities right then—getting clean, eating and going to sleep. He hated that there wouldn't be much time for him and Maureen to talk, but he also still felt a little awkward and wrong around her. Maybe, for now, it was okay that she didn't want to be alone with him.

Both girls emerged from the bathrooms right after the food arrived. Taylor directed them to help themselves and sit wherever they wanted. For a moment, he just stood back and watched before helping himself to an eggroll and a tiny bit of rice. Another of his detox side effects, it seemed, was that everything he ate tasted and felt like chewing on broken glass. Still, he had to be a good host. With his nearly bare plate, he joined the two girls in the living room, taking a seat in the chair and letting them sprawl out on the couch.

The two of them seemed to instantly make themselves comfortable, and that made Taylor happy. They ate and chatted about their finals as though Taylor wasn't there, and he didn't mind at all. He was happy just to watch them and see that they were happy.

As he watched them, Taylor had to admit that Summer was very pretty—gorgeous, even. Even in her pajamas and no makeup, she oozed sex appeal. It was just something about her curves, her full lips and the gleam in her eye.

But she wasn't Maureen.

Summer was exactly the sort of girl he would have chosen before Maureen. Taylor knew that. He didn't really have a type; he just liked girls, period. But Summer was the type of girl Taylor could tell would be up for anything. She wouldn't have pushed him away like Maureen. That didn't make Maureen a better person in Taylor's eyes, but it did make her a mystery—a mystery that Taylor didn't think he would ever tire of trying to solve.

“So,” Summer said loudly, drawing Taylor's attention. “What are we actually doing? Dinner with your family, going out...?”

She seemed a little overeager, and Taylor remembered that Maureen had mentioned she was a Hanson fan. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to agree to let her come along on the trip, he thought to himself.

Taylor realized both girls were staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Umm... dinner with the family. They all know you girls are coming.”

“They do?” Maureen asked, an obvious note of fear in her voice.

Taylor gave her a small smile. “I didn't tell them anything bad. Just that two of my friends—well, my friend and her friend—from Chicago were coming to visit. And I warned them all to be nice to you. If they're not, I'm disowning them. Or kicking them out of the band. Or both.”

The girls laughed, but Taylor knew he was rambling again. It was a bad habit of his, one that was only exacerbated by the drugs. He hadn't felt very talkative lately, though, so he considered it a good sign that he was vomiting words again. Still, it felt awkward, especially when he realized the girls were staring at him and probably only laughing to be polite.

“Will the whole family be there?” Summer asked.

“Yeah,” Taylor replied, noticing that Maureen still looked scared. “They're really harmless. I promise.”

That seemed to do little at all to soothe Maureen's fears, but it did at least put a stop to Summer's questions.

Taylor could only hope that Summer just a little curious and trying to make conversation. He didn't think she was really _dangerous_. Maureen trusted her, and it was obviously not easy to earn Maureen's trust. If she thought Summer was okay, Taylor had no choice but to accept that Maureen knew better than he did.

At least he curiosity seemed to be sated. The three of them continued to eat their dinner, and the conversation steered itself toward less personal, probing questions. Taylor found it surprisingly easy to talk to the two girls, and he even managed to finish his food and go back for a second helping. What had started out awkward ended up being not so bad after all.

When they finished eating, Maureen and Summer insisted on cleaning up their mess. Taylor had a feeling they just wanted to be alone to gossip about him. As much as he hated putting them to work, he supposed he should give them a little time along. While they gathered up the leftovers and washed the dishes, Taylor hunted out his extra blankets and pillows and arranged them on the couch for himself.

He couldn't help noticing that Maureen lingered in the kitchen long after Summer had excused herself and gone to bed. Taylor was certain all the dishes were washed _and_ dried, including a few he'd dirtied himself earlier that day. Maureen was stalling, and his conceited side said it was because she wanted to spend more time with him.

“Maur,” he said gently, prying the dish towel from her hand. “You look exhausted. No offense... I mean, you still look beautiful, but I _know_ you're tired.”

She blushed at the compliment, but nodded. “I don't know why I'm so tired. It was a short flight, and all I had to do was sit there.”

Taylor chuckled softly. “I know, I know. It's still just... stressful.”

Maureen nodded, stifling a yawn as she did so.

“Just go on to sleep, okay? We can... hang out tomorrow. We'll have a little while before the big family dinner.”

“Okay,” Maureen replied, still looking nervous but mostly just tired. “Thank you for inviting me here. I know I haven't seemed all that grateful, but...”

“It's fine. You're welcome.” Taylor punctuated the statement with a smile and a gentle kiss to her forehead.

That seemed to satisfy Maureen, and she gave him a quick hug before heading down the hallway toward his bedroom. Taylor watched her walk away, wishing he could follow her and climb right into bed next to her, but he knew they were a long way from that... if they _ever_ made it that far.

For once, though, he didn't mind waiting.


	32. A Dream of Better Days

Thanksgiving had never been a holiday that Maureen celebrated in the traditional way. It was a secular holiday, not religious, and therefore her father had shunned it. Once she was out of his world, she had still never participated in what she knew was the traditional celebration. Maureen wouldn't have minded turkey and cranberry sauce, but she didn't exactly have a family to share the meal with. Summer did, but they understood her love of travel and indulged it during any and every holiday. Instead of sitting around a table with her family, Maureen usually spent the holiday in a hotel somewhere with Summer.

There was something ironic, she thought, about spending her first real, traditional Thanksgiving with Taylor. He himself seemed _anything_ but traditional. Summer had assured Maureen that his family was more normal, but it was the sort of thing that she didn't think she would believe until she saw it.

They had also both done their best to prepare her for the size of his family, but nothing Summer or Taylor said quite soothed Maureen's worries. Even if they _were_ nothing like Taylor, there were still over a dozen of them and absolutely no guarantee they would like her at all.

“You know, I'm the one who should be worried,” Summer said, applying what Maureen thought was at least three too many coats of mascara for a family dinner. “I mean, here I am, just some random Hanson fan tagging along. At least you belong there.”

Maureen looked looked down at her dress, a simple floral thing she'd bought secondhand that Summer had praised and called vintage. She picked at a tiny tear in the fabric. “I don't think I belong _anywhere_.”

“You just haven't found your place yet,” Summer said, standing up and putting away her makeup mirror. “But I gotta tell you, you look more at home with Taylor than I've ever seen you look before. That's gotta mean something.”

“Maybe,” Maureen replied softly.

Before she could carry that thought any further, a soft knock came at the door. Taylor pushed it open and leaned against the door frame, looking little to nothing like his usual self in a pair of khakis and a blue dress shirt. It even looked like he'd brushed his hair. He still sported huge bags under his eyes and his skin was a little too pale to be healthy, but Maureen thought he looked better than he had in a long time.

“You girls ready to go?” He asked.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Maureen replied with the best smile she could fake. She knew it wasn't much by the way the effort made her whole face hurt.

Taylor took a few steps closer to her and lowered his voice. “We don't have to go. Honestly. If you said the word, I would blow them all off and we could just stay here and eat frozen dinners.”

For a moment, Maureen considered it. Then she remembered what Summer had said about Taylor's family. If they really were that different from him, maybe it would be a good thing for him to spend a little time with them. It ought to do him just as much, if not more, good than spending time with her.

“Well?” He asked, running his hands up and down her arms. “What do you say? Stay or go?”

Almost to her own surprise, Maureen replied, “Go.”

****

Somehow, Taylor's family was both terribly intimidating and not intimidating at all. Maureen didn't think she would ever learn all their names, but she had to admit they were all welcoming and friendly. His parents had seemed surprised by her, and Maureen wasn't sure if it was a good sort of surprised or not. It was obvious they weren't accustomed to meeting his girlfriends—or whatever she was—but Maureen had to believe even her awkward self made a better impression than most of the girls Taylor dated.

In spite of her worries, Maureen somehow managed to fumble her way through dinner. There were too many people for a real sit-down dinner; instead, they were all scattered around the house in small groups. Maureen had found herself with one of Taylor's younger sisters who had just started art school. Maureen was sure that was why Taylor had pushed them together before going off with the guy she thought she remembered as his older brother Isaac.

Maureen and Avery—at least she thought that was her name—talked art for quite a while, even after dessert, until Avery excused herself to take a phone call from her boyfriend. The conversation hadn't been bad, but Maureen still welcomed the reprieve. She needed a break. There were still plenty of people around, but none of them seemed to take notice of little old Maureen. She took the opportunity to wander around the house a little, hoping to glean a little secondhand insight into Taylor and his family.

The house was _huge_. That was Maureen's first insight, and it wasn't very revealing. Even if she had been oblivious to Hanson's existence, it was obvious they had made quite a lot of money. Although Maureen desperately wanted to see Taylor's childhood bedroom, she knew that was too much of an invasion of his privacy. Maybe it would answer all of her questions and maybe it wouldn't. It didn't matter. She knew wandering around first floor of the house was already bordering on too nosy.

After a little exploration, she found herself in front of a huge wall of frame photos. There were baby pictures—seven in a row—and some rather old looking shots of three young boys. The house in those photos was different, but Maureen quickly recognized Taylor. His bright blue eyes and disarming smile were the same, even at less than half his current age.

The photos followed the entire family through soccer games, dance recitals and more than a few concerts and red carpets. It was strange to watch them all grow older right there on the wall, but more than that, it was completely unnerving to watch Taylor _change_ right before her very eyes. His eyes lost their sparkle and his smile became more forced. His real smile, the one Maureen thought she'd only glimpsed once or twice, only appeared in one of the newer photos.

It was a black and white shot, and it only took Maureen a moment to realize it was his wedding. Taylor's eyes were down, but Maureen was certain that if she could see them, they would have been full of hope.

The girl Taylor—Natalie, she remembered—looked just as happy and hopeful, but a little bit scared. Maureen couldn't blame her for that; eighteen had only been three years ago for her, and somehow getting married at that age seemed even more terrifying than running away had. Maureen could see that Taylor and Natalie had made the best of what life and had dealt them, but she still couldn't even imagine it.

After glancing around the wall again, Maureen realized that was the newest picture Natalie appeared in. She was sure newer ones must have existed, but they weren't there. Taylor's genuine smile, too, made its last appearance in that photo.

That was all Maureen could take of the pictures. She spun around, turning her back on them, and found herself in front of a large sliding glass door. Through it, she could see the pool, illuminated by a few small lights set in the tile around it. The pool was empty, but someone still sat slumped at its side, their legs dangling in the empty basin. When the figure glanced up and caught her eye, Maureen realized it was Taylor.

Now that she had been caught staring, she felt required to go outside and speak to him. She hadn't meant to ignore him at all, but it had happened anyway.

Maureen slid the door open and walked over to him. Even after sitting down and dangling her own feet into the empty pool, Maureen didn't speak. Taylor seemed upset about something, and with no clue _what_ , she was powerless to fix it.

“Tired of my family already?” Taylor asked suddenly, his voice soft and a little tired sounding.

Maureen shrugged. “They're all nice. I'm just... tired, I guess. Being around people can be so...”

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed with a sigh. “It really can be. I know that better than anyone.”

“I suppose you do,” Maureen replied, carefully stealing a glance at his face. “Have you had enough of people tonight, too?”

Taylor gave a long, hard sigh. “Just one of them. It appears that no matter what, my brother just will not approve of what I do with my life.”

“Isaac?” Maureen asked, recalling the animated conversation she'd seen those two locked in earlier.

Taylor nodded. “He isn't really my biggest fan, and apparently, he isn't all that convinced that I really am going to change this time.”

“Well, no offense, but... can you blame him?”

“Not really,” Taylor replied, looking less insulted than Maureen had feared. “Then again, yes. You I'll accept that from, because you still don't know me that well. Nearly all you've seen is me at my worst. But Ike... he _knows_ me. At least, I thought he did.”

“I'm sure he does,” Maureen replied. She bit her lip as she contemplated what she wanted to say next. “But he's seen a dozen different versions of you, I'm sure. Even more Taylors than I've seen. And I'm sure he wants to believe you're still his little brother, still a good guy, but how long has it been since he's seen that guy for any length of time?”

Taylor glanced down into the empty pool and sighed. “A long time. A really, really long time. Truth be told, I barely even remember what it's like to be that guy... unless I'm with you.”

Maureen felt herself blushing at that, and she had to glance away so that Taylor wouldn't see. She really didn't understand what was so special about her. Taylor kept insisting there was something, but whatever it was, only he could see it. All Maureen could see was a strange little girl who barely knew how to function in the real world. How did that make her special?

“I don't know, maybe...” Taylor began, then sighed again. “Maybe I need to do more to prove to him that I've changed. I can tell him I have, but unless he sees it...”

Taylor trailed off then and shook his head helplessly. Maureen wished she had some sort of advice to offer him, but she just didn't. She had absolutely no words of wisdom for him at all. There was only one thing, she supposed, that might help an addict like Taylor, but Maureen didn't have the nerve to suggest it.

“Maybe I should, god, I don't know...”

Taylor's next words were lost in a sudden burst of laughter. Maureen's head snapped up and she followed the sound, finally tracing it to two figures walking out of what she assumed to be the guest house. It took only a moment to identify them as Summer and Taylor's other brother.

“Zac?” Taylor asked, causing him to stop in his tracks.

Both he and Summer were frozen on the spot, looking much like deer caught in the headlights. Even someone as innocent as Maureen could guess, by their expressions and their rumbled clothes, what they'd been doing in the guest house. The realization made her blush, and she was glad it was dark enough to hide her embarrassment.

Summer shot Maureen a look before dragging Zac back into the main house. If she'd needed any more confirmation that her guess was correct, that guilty little smile sealed the deal.

Maureen could do little more than look up at Taylor and shrug. To her relief, he began to laugh. It took him a moment to build up steam, his laughter only becoming more genuine as he did. That smile, that _real_ smile, planted itself on his lips, and that made Maureen smile and laugh right along with him.


	33. Miles Away From You

Thanksgiving break was significantly shorter than fall break, and all too soon, Maureen found herself in Taylor's car, watching the highway fly by as he drove her and Summer back to the airport for their flight home. 

Home.

Maureen couldn't help referring to Chicago that way. It was the longest she'd lived in one place, even though living in a dorm for nine months out of the year and crashing wherever she could the rest of the time didn't really seem to count as _living_. She didn't know what else to call it, though. Nothing, except for these short visits with Taylor, had ever felt so much like home to her.

That was a realization she didn't anticipate admitting to Taylor any time soon.

The closer they got to the airport, the more butterflies Maureen felt in her stomach. She wasn't nervous about flying, though. It had only taken a few flights to rid her of that fear. Her nervousness stemmed, she decided, from having to leave Taylor when he so obviously still needed her. She could imagine a dozen awful scenarios for what might happen to him once she was gone. Taylor was stronger than he gave himself credit for, she thought, but it was obvious that being around her helped him to get through things. She didn't want to think about him falling apart once she was back in Chicago. 

All too soon, they arrived at the airport and Maureen went through the motions of checking in for the flight. Even with only two previous flights under her belt, she was getting used to the routine. Once they'd checked in, the three of them ate an early dinner at one of the airport's few restaurants. It wasn't much, but that was fine by Maureen. She was happy just to have a few extra minutes to spend with Taylor, even if they were spent in the uncomfortable airport chairs, eating overpriced sandwiches.

“So, you guys are done for the year, right?” Summer asked in between sips of her latte.

“Almost,” Taylor replied. “We just have a few radio shows left. Nothing major, just some local Christmas concerts.”

Summer nodded. “I thought that was what Zac said.”

Taylor and Maureen shared a look at that; after their little encounter on Thanksgiving, Summer and Zac had been texting, but neither of them had admitted to _any_ of what had happened between them. 

“Well, he was right,” Taylor said. “This will be a nice, long break for us before we have to even think about promoting another single. And I really don't want to think about that right now.”

“Will you be going back on tour then?” Maureen asked.

Taylor let out a long sigh. “Not a full tour, I hope. We haven't done a lot of planning, but I think it'll just be a few radio appearances, maybe some concerts in a few places we haven't hit in years. Not a big tour like this last one.”

Maureen nodded. “That's good, right? You need a break.”

“Yeah,” Taylor replied. “I really do. I'm not sure I'll even know what to do with myself with so much time off. Just try to stay out of trouble, I guess...”

Maureen felt an overwhelming urge to reach for his hand, although she couldn't really say why. She grasped it lightly and gave Taylor a smile, hoping that he would understand, without her having to say anything, all that she was trying to convey. The smile he gave her in return made her think that he did.

Neither of them spoke again until Summer excused herself to go to the restroom.

“So,” Taylor said softly. “I was wondering... what your plans for Christmas were?”

“The same as they always are, I suppose. Summer's family usually lets me stay with them, or else I'll housesit for one of my professors.”

“There is a third option, you know.”

Maureen smirked. “Come visit you?”

“Exactly,” Taylor replied, returning her smirk. “Unless you're getting sick of seeing me all the time, that is.”

“I suppose I'm not quite tired of you yet,” Maureen said. It was as close as she could get to admitting that she wouldn't have minded seeing Taylor every single day.

Taylor grinned. “And I'm not remotely tired of seeing you. So I was thinking you could come visit me, maybe just for a week or so. However long you want. And I just might need to make a trip to Chicago. Just because I can.”

“Is that right?” Maureen asked, returning Taylor's grin.

He shrugged. “It was just a thought. Seemed like it could be fun.”

“It could be,” Maureen replied. 

There was so much more that she wanted to say, but Summer was walking back over and the PA system was announcing that their flight was boarding. Maureen didn't want to go, but she knew that she didn't have a choice.

“So I'll see you soon?” Taylor asked, still holding onto Maureen's hand.

“I hope so,” she replied, forcing herself to stand up. “We'll figure out the details soon, okay?”

Taylor nodded and stood up, taking both of Maureen's hands in his. She could tell there was more that he wanted to say, but evidently he was having trouble finding the right words, too. Instead of speaking, he leaned down and kissed her. The kiss was gentle but insistent; Maureen didn't know about that sort of thing, but she could have sworn it was full of love. She never wanted it to end, but when the PA system called yet again for her flight to board, she knew she had to go. There would be other opportunities to kiss Taylor like that, she hoped.

He walked with her as long as he could, and neither of them spoke a single word. That kiss had said it all, Maureen decided.

Maureen was quiet for the rest of the walk onto the plane, and for once, so was Summer. That surprised her. She could tell from the look on her face that Summer was just waiting for the right time to say whatever she was thinking. That time didn't come until they'd both settled into their seats and Maureen had pulled out her book to read during the flight.

“So,” Summer said. “What's the deal with you and Taylor, huh? Still saying he's not your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Maureen replied, then bit her lip. “But... but only because _he_ hasn't actually said that he is. Neither of us have talked about it, so I don't think I can really say that he is or isn't.”

Summer nodded slowly. “I suppose... but I think it's totally obvious that he is.”

“Well, if you say it's true, then I suppose it is,” Maureen replied, nudging Summer and chuckling softly.

“I'm just saying, it's obvious how much you guys care about each other. So what if you haven't actually said it? Doesn't make it any less true.”

“In that case, what about you and Zac, hmm?” Maureen asked.

To Maureen's complete and utter surprise, Summer blushed. Maureen wasn't sure she'd ever seen her blush in all the years she'd known her. She hadn't even sure it was _possible_ for anything to embarrass Summer.

“Oh, I don't...” Summer began, trailing off and hiding her face in her hands for a moment. “God, I feel like some teenybopper! I really didn't mean for this to happen; you have to believe me.”

“You tried to warn me against Taylor,” Maureen pointed out. “So I believe you. I know you weren't _just_ jealous that he... liked me.”

Summer shook her head. “No, I wasn't. I mean, I was a little jealous, but I outgrew my crush on him a long time ago. And I never really had a crush on Zac, but he's just... he's so different in person. So... normal. They all are, even Taylor, but Zac was just not at all what I expected.”

Maureen nodded. “That's exactly how I feel about Taylor.”

“Then you understand,” Summer replied. “I know it was just one weekend, but... this just feels unlike any other guy I've been with. I just don't want you or anyone else to think I'm just some crazy fangirl.”

“I've never thought you were. Honestly.”

“Good,” Summer replied with a smile. As they settled in for the flight to begin, her smile faded. “I mean, I don't even know when I'll see him again...”

“I might be going to visit Taylor for Christmas,” Maureen admitted. “He suggested it, but we didn't make any definite plans.”

“Oh, no,” Summer said, shaking her head. “I'm not butting into your plans. Maybe if Zac asks me to come, but unless it's his idea, I'm staying away. I don't even know if he _wants_ to see me again.”

“I'm sure he does.”

“Well, aren't you the expert on boys now?” Summer gave Maureen a soft nudge and a smirk.

Maureen shook her head. “Not at all... I just have a good feeling about this, that's all.”

“Honestly? So I do. And I have a good feeling about you and Taylor, too.”

Maureen smiled. She wasn't so sure about that, because she knew Taylor still had a long way to go. There was at least a light at the end of the tunnel, but they weren't there yet. It seemed too soon to assume anything about their relationship—including whether or not that was even an accurate word for it. 

Still, she was happy. Happier than she had been in a long time. Being with Taylor was finally starting to feel right, and Maureen was finally starting to feel at home, not just in her own skin but in the world that surrounded her. It was definitely a good feeling.


	34. Been Running In Place

In the end, Summer decided not to go back to Tulsa with Maureen for Christmas. Maureen couldn't really understand why; she and Zac had spent what felt like every waking moment on the phone for the rest of the semester. She had no doubt they would do the same over Christmas break, so they might as well have been in the same state. 

Spending her entire Christmas break with Taylor and his family was much more comfortable than Maureen expected. They seemed to fall easily into a routine, as though the two of them actually lived together. They slept in late, spent a few hours exploring Tulsa, then either ate dinner on the town or with his family. It was the sort of normal family life that Maureen had always wanted, and she desperately hoped it would remain hers... indefinitely.

It was a Hanson family tradition that everyone went to Walker and Diana's house for at least a portion of Christmas eve, before going back to their own homes. Maureen wanted to object, mostly on the basis that she knew there would be gifts exchanged and she had nothing to give, but Taylor insisted that it wasn't a problem. She knew the tradition was important, maybe more than ever now that Taylor was trying to get his life back to normal. 

Christmas dinner with the Hansons was a lot like Thanksgiving, Maureen realized. Although there were presents exchanged, they were so many people scattered around that it was impossible to pay attention to all that was happening. She was shocked, soon upon walking in, to receive a small box from Diana, and it only made her feel worse about not bringing any presents for any of his family. She hadn't even been able to think of an appropriate present for Taylor. What amount of money could buy something that would express her gratitude to him for treating her like a normal human being? Nothing that Maureen could think of—and if it did exist, there was no possible way it was within her budget.

Maureen was relieved, at least, when Taylor told her that they only exchanged gifts there; no one was obligated to open them in front of the entire family considering how long that would take.

As with Thanksgiving, once plates were filled and grace was said—something that Maureen was vaguely uncomfortable with but didn't dare object to—everyone parted ways to eat in chairs scattered all over the house. Maureen and Taylor maid their way to an isolated corner of the living room, and for the first time since they'd arrived, Maureen felt like she could breathe. By the time Taylor left to get dessert for the two of them, she was really starting to feel like herself again.

“No, I'm not... I don't know, okay? It's just an idea.”

Those words, and the exasperated tone of them, pulled Maureen out of her thoughts. It was Taylor, and he sounded agitated even through the wall that separated Maureen from him and the kitchen where he was evidently arguing with someone.

“Have you even told her?” Another voice asked, and Maureen struggled to place it. It sounded like Isaac, she decided.

“No, I... I will,” Taylor replied. “But not until I decide for sure what I'm going to do.”

Maureen could hear footsteps approaching, and she sat back in her chair so it wouldn't appear that she was eavesdropping, even though she was. “I'm just saying, if you're serious about this girl, you probably need to at least run this by her. She needs to know.”

“I know, I know,” Taylor replied with an exasperated sigh.

Moments later, he appeared in front of Maureen, his smile looking suspiciously fake. She wanted to ask him what was going on, but she didn't want to admit that she was listening in on his conversation. Surely the _she_ in the conversation had to be her. Who else could it be? Still, she couldn't bring herself to ask. Instead, she ate her dessert quietly and bid her time until everyone started to part ways and head off to their own holiday celebrations at home.

For the entire drive back to Taylor's apartment, Maureen was quiet. That wasn't unusual for her; she was naturally much more quiet than anyone else she knew. The fact that Taylor was quiet, too, bothered her. Something between them felt awkward, and she wondered if it was because of what Taylor and Isaac had talked about. She decided that when they got home, she _had_ to ask him about it.

Taylor snapped back to, or close to, his normal self as soon as they arrived at the apartment. He ushered Maureen in and poured her a glass of sparking cider with some comment about how it was the closest thing to alcohol that he had. That was fine by her; Maureen had no desire to ever drink again and she figured it was a good thing that Taylor wasn't drinking, either.

“So, are you ready to open presents?” Taylor asked, sitting down next to Maureen on the couch, a glass of cider in one hand and a small package in the other.

“Presents?” Maureen asked, blinking rapidly. “I only have the... did you buy me something, too?”

Taylor nodded sheepishly. “I didn't know my mom would buy you anything, honestly. She just loves buying gifts. But how could I _not_ get you something?”

“I don't know, I just... I couldn't afford to get you a present, so I really don't deserve anything.”

“Hey,” Taylor said softly. “Having money or not having money doesn't have anything to do with what you deserve. You've done so much for me just by being you. I've got all I need, but I couldn't imagine not getting you something to show how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Maureen could only stare dumbly as he placed the small package in her lap. She felt tears welling up in her eyes at Taylor's confession, and she kept her head down so that perhaps he wouldn't see.

“Well? Are you going to open them?” He asked, adding the package from his mother to the tiny pile in her lap.

Maureen nodded softly as she stared down at the two perfectly wrapped packages. She picked up the one from his mother first and noted that it was actually labeled as from the entire family. She wondered if that included Zac and Isaac, too. With trembling hands, she peeled back the wrapping and opened the plain white box below it. Inside was a set of very expensive paint brushes, the likes of which Maureen could only have ever dreamed about being able to afford. 

“Taylor...” she gasped out. “These are... she shouldn't have spent so much on me.”

“Hey, you want to be famous for your art, right? Then you need the right supplies.”

Maureen shook her head. “That's not... These are _so_ expensive, though.”

“Then you're probably not going to appreciate my gift, either,” Taylor replied, frowning slightly.

With a heavy sigh, Maureen set aside the paint brushes and began peeling the wrapping off Taylor's present. It was a small, square box and that made her nervous. Surely he wouldn't have done something as stupid as buying her a ring. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest as she opened the box.

Her guess had been close. Inside lay a silver bracelet. It was a thin chain, and Maureen realized there were a few small charms on it. She picked it up and examined them—a paint palette and a music note.

“The palette seemed obvious,” Taylor said. “And the music note is for how we met—at a concert. I didn't know what else to get, so I figured you could add to it yourself with things you think are meaningful to you.”

She slipped the bracelet onto her wrist then looked up at Taylor and smiled. “Thank you. It's probably still more expensive than I really want to think about, but... thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Taylor replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Maureen's lips.

He tasted like cider, as she was sure she did too. While she would have been content just to kiss him, Maureen suddenly remembered the conversation she'd overhead and it nagged at her mind. She didn't want to admit to eavesdropping, but she had to know what he was talking about.

“Tay, I, umm... I may have kind of overheard you and your brother talking earlier,” she admitted, her cheeks turning bright red.

Taylor paled. “You did? Umm, what were we talking about?”

“I'm not really sure, but it seemed like something that concerned me in some way.”

“Oh,” Taylor squeaked out. Slowly, he began to nod. “Yeah, it, umm... I guess it does effect you. It's not _about_ you, though. It's about me.”

“What about you?”

Taylor took a deep breath. “Well, we've basically decided to take a few months off before we put out the next single and everything, and I was thinking... it seems like that would be a good time for me to... get some help.”

“Help?” Maureen echoed, not entirely sure that she understood what he meant.

“Yeah, I... I've been looking at treatment centers. I just... it's hard to do this cold turkey, you know? I did that before, and obviously, it didn't work. I need to try something else.”

Maureen nodded slowly. “Okay, I think... I think that's a good idea. What does that have to do with me?”

“Well, there's a place in Chicago... I need somewhere that I know will keep my information confidential, you know? And this place comes highly recommended, so I think... I guess I'll be moving to Chicago soon, if I decide to go there.”

“If you don't go there... would you go somewhere else, or not at all?” Maureen asked.

Taylor ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I think... I'm going there. It's just scary to go from saying maybe I'll do it to saying I'm really going. But they called a few days ago and said I could come in next week. So... I'm going.”

“That's... that's a big deal. And soon. Wow.”

“I know,” Taylor replied, nodding. Taking Maureen's hand in his, he added, “But I'll be near you. And I think that'll make a big difference.”

Maureen blushed. “I'm glad you think so.”

“Good,” Taylor replied, kissing Maureen's forehead. “So, you won't mind having me nearby, at least for a few months?”

“Not at all,” Maureen admitted.

“It's settled, then. I can go a few days before your semester starts back, I think. We'll have a few days together before I'm... admitted. That's a scary word.”

“I think you're being pretty brave about the whole thing, actually,” Maureen replied.

“See, that's why I keep you around,” Taylor said, smirking. “You know just how to boost my self esteem.”

That did nothing to decrease the blush that had crossed Maureen's face moments earlier. She glanced down and bit her lip, idly playing with her new charm bracelet. After a moment, she looked back up but still tried to avoid Taylor's eyes. “I know it's early, but if it's alright with you... I think I'd like to just go on to bed.”

“Fine by me,” Taylor replied, smiling. “I'm tired, too. Being around the whole family... it's just really tiring, especially right now. I know the coffee is an addiction, too, but it's the only thing that gets me through the day right now. I hope you never know pain like this, Maur.”

“I wish you didn't know it, either.”

“Hopefully soon, it'll be a thing of the past,” Taylor replied with a smile that looked a little painful. “Come on, let's get some sleep.”

Taylor took Maureen's hand and walked down the hall with her, but they parted ways at the guest room door. Maureen knew it was silly to keep sleeping in separate beds. What did it hurt just to sleep next to him? It still seemed like a big step to her, with how little experience she had. 

Everything with him seemed to be moving quickly, though. Even though he wasn't moving in with her, this temporary stay in Chicago was a big deal. Sure, they wouldn't really get to see each other that often while he was in treatment, Maureen supposed. She didn't really know. It still felt like some sort of milestone in their relationship.

If she was ready to call it that, she decided, she was ready just to share a bed with him. Once she'd changed into her pajamas, she padded back down the hallway to the guestroom.

“Taylor?” She asked, taking a hesitant step into the room. “I, umm, I was just thinking... you can come sleep in your bed, if you want.”

“You can keep it,” Taylor replied.

Maureen shook her head. “No, I mean... with me.”

Taylor blinked, and Maureen thought she could actually see realization washing over him. “Oh... oh. Okay. If you want.”

“Yeah,” she replied, nodding. “I mean, it's just... sleeping. It won't hurt anything.”

Taylor, already having changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, stepped toward Maureen and gave her a smile. “No, it... it means a lot. Thanks.”

Maureen wasn't sure what he was thanking her for, but she wasn't about to question him on it. They walked into his bedroom together and it only took them a few seconds to fall into a comfortable position, curled up together like spoons. It felt strangely familiar, Maureen thought, like it was exactly where she was supposed to be.


	35. Looking To The Horizon

In a strange way, Taylor had hoped Maureen wouldn't be supportive of his plan to seek treatment. It was still terrifying, and if she'd been at all hesitant about it, it would have been so much easier for him to continue waffling and putting it on the backburner.

But he had to go. He knew he had to, whether anyone at all supported him or not.

The physical effects of detoxing had only slightly improved from how they'd been in those first few hours and days without. Taylor knew that wasn't uncommon, although in the past he'd always bounced back easily. Not so this time. This time, he was drinking twice as much coffee and throwing back aspirin that did little to nothing that he could detect. 

It wasn't just the physical stuff, though. Every day Taylor had to remind himself _why_ he was quitting, and some days he couldn't quite remember. On those days, it was so tempting to call up one of the many people he knew who would be more than willing to supply his need. A few times, he made it as far as his phone's address book before he worked up the nerve to stop himself. If being sober was going to hurt so much indefinitely, and if his family was still largely not going to believe that he meant it this time, then what was the point? That was the question that Taylor couldn't answer. He could only hope there was a therapist in Chicago who had an answer for him.

Once Maureen agreed with the plan, it seemed to all fall into place overnight. The rehab center reserved a spot for Taylor, he booked a hotel in Chicago for the week before and one way tickets there for himself and Maureen. It was almost too easy, and that was what made Taylor worry.

He tried to put his fears aside during his week in the city with Maureen. He'd always liked Chicago, so he had plenty of favorite restaurants and such to show her, while Maureen gave him a guided tour of Northwestern's campus. Being on a college campus was just strange to Taylor. In so many ways, he and Maureen were from entirely different worlds. If Taylor could just be normal in one way, the way he was going to rehab for, then perhaps it would bring the two of them that little bit closer. It wasn't much, but it was part of what Taylor thought about to keep himself motivated. 

After a week, though, there was no more thinking. It was time to actually _do_ something.

Taylor had scheduled his admission for the day before Maureen's classes began again so that she could go with him. He wished that some of his family could be there, but he knew he'd sprung it on them a little too suddenly. Half of them didn't even believe that he was really going through with it. Taylor wanted to be angry with them, but he wasn't. In the past, the closest he'd gotten was detoxing in the hospital for a few days, swearing off all the drugs, and then going right back to them days or weeks later. It wasn't a very encouraging pattern, but Taylor could feel the difference this time. He just had to make the rest of them see it.

The cab ride to Oak Grove was long and silent. It was fairly isolated, out on the outskirts of town, and that was a big part of why Taylor had chosen it. They'd passed all of his privacy and security requirements with flying colors, and as the cab deposited him and Maureen inside the gates, he felt more and more confident in his choice. 

“It looks like a summer camp,” Maureen remarked. “Or, at least, what I would imagine a summer camp looks like. I never went to camp.”

“Neither did I,” Taylor admitted with a hint of a smirk. “See, we're not really that different after all.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “Only you could find these weird similarities, when you know very well the reasons behind them are polar opposites.”

“Maybe. But it's still common ground, in a way. Whatever the reason, the end result is that neither of us fit in with the rest of the world. So it makes perfect sense that we would end up together, don't you think?”

Maureen seemed to consider that for a moment, but other than a little nod, she didn't reply. Taylor had to wonder how uncomfortable she was being at the rehab center with him; it had to be completely outside of her comfort zone. It wasn't exactly _in_ his, but it was going to have to get there fast. 

They didn't have much more chance to stand around and talk before an overly enthusiastic woman came rushing out of what appeared to be the main building and greeted them. She introduced herself as Marie and began running through a well-rehearsed spiel about the center. It was really nothing that Taylor hadn't already learned from their website and his phone calls, but it amused him to watch how attentive Maureen was, as though she was going to be tested on it later. 

Marie led them through a quick tour of the grounds, then inside the actual rehab center. While the outside might have looked like a camp, it was still mostly sterile and hospital-like on the inside. There were rooms for art and music therapy, which seemed cliché to Taylor but still fairly interesting, therapists offices, a cafeteria that looked almost like a five star restaurant, and more. It was definitely a top notch place, and Taylor was proud of himself for choosing it without ever setting foot there before. Its appearance seemed to calm Maureen a bit, too, her hand relaxing in Taylor's grasp as they walked along.

Taylor wondered if she would really be able to let him go. More than that, he wondered if _he_ would be able to let _her_ go. He knew there was no choice, though. It was too late to turn back.

“Okay,” Marie chirped. “Let's get you signed in and then you can settle into your cabin.”

It really was a summer camp, Taylor realized. He kind of liked that.

There were pages and pages of paperwork to be filled out, and while Taylor took care of that, Maureen took Marie off into a corner. The two of them talked in such hushed tones that Taylor didn't even bother trying to eavesdrop. It took all of his concentration to fill out line after line of red tape with a splitting headache, anyway. He certainly didn't plan on giving up caffeine for good, but he hadn't had as much that morning as he would have liked, nor had he downed any pain pills before leaving the hotel. Even if it was just aspirin, it seemed wrong to pop a ton of them before checking himself into rehab.

Once the paperwork was finished and filed, Marie escorted Taylor and Maureen to the cabin. It really was a cabin; there were also rows of shared housing, but Taylor had arranged to have his own room for privacy's sake. He knew he couldn't entirely avoid the general population of the center, but he wanted to be sure that he had some place where he could be away from them all. If that made him a spoiled celebrity, he really didn't care. 

“Here you are, then,” Marie said, handing Taylor the key to the cabin. “You'll be on your own except for meals today, and you've got your schedule for tomorrow.”

“Mhm,” Taylor replied, not feeling remotely up to matching her enthusiasm. At least he had the rest of the day to himself, he decided. That was a relief.

Moments later, Marie was gone and he was alone with Maureen. In silence, the two of them began unpacking his things and storing them around the small cabin. It really was a cabin, in every sense of the word, except it wasn't out in the middle of the woods. There was a small kitchen, if it was even large enough to be called that, in one corner, and the rest of the room served as a bedroom. On the far wall were two doors; one led to a tiny closet and the other to a bathroom that was nearly as small.

It wasn't much, but it was only his for a few months. Taylor decided he could live with that.

“So,” Maureen said, looking up from the shirts she was diligently folding and storing in the bedroom's small dresser. “This place is pretty nice. I really didn't know what to expect.”

“Yeah, it is. I'll have a decent amount of freedom, anyway. I mean, I'm sure they would find out if I was using again, but... well, I'm not going to. But it's still nice to not be crammed into a little hospital room. That's what you expect when you think of rehab, isn't it?”

Maureen shrugged. “I don't expect anything. But I suppose. That's the kind of thing you see on tv.”

“That, or the really posh resort places so many celebrities go to. I didn't want that, though. I just want... well, to get better. That's all.”

Maureen sat down the shirt she'd been folding and walked over to the other side of the bed where Taylor stood. “You know I'm really proud of you for doing this, right?”

Taylor only nodded.

“I don't know if I've seen you at your worst, but I've seen you pretty low and... well, I don't ever want to see that again. And you've been so good to me, you really have, that you deserve something good in your life, too.”

“I have something good,” Taylor replied, pulling Maureen closer to him. “I've got you.”

She rolled her eyes. “That's not what I meant and you know it. And while I'd love to stay and let you compliment me more, I think there's a time limit on how long I'm allowed to be here helping you settle in.”

“Unfortunately, you're right,” Taylor replied with a heavy sigh. “You'll come visit as soon as I'm allowed visitors, right? I have to get through certain parts of the therapy before that's allowed, though.”

Maureen nodded. “The very second they say I can, I'll be here. I promise. I know you need... a support system or whatever.”

“I've got you,” Taylor replied, then leaned down to give Maureen a gentle kiss. “That's enough for me.”

As he watched her walk away, back in the direction of the main rehab center, he could only hope that he was right. It would have been nice to have everyone's support, but at least he had her, even if it would be days and days before he saw her again.


	36. Speak of Grace

Taylor had gone into rehab with lots of preconceived notions about what it would be like. After just a few weeks, it seemed to be proving most of them wrong. It wasn't full of sad, beaten down junkies or crazy people—although Taylor sometimes thought he might have fallen into either category. He just hid it well. That was part of his problem, he knew. He bottled everything up, and maybe everyone else there did, too. Maybe they all only looked normal on the surface.

But rehab was different than he'd expected. The food was good, and there were plenty of activities to distract him from the actual therapy part. He could play piano for the others, and few of them even realized who he was enough to mock him; they just enjoyed the music that “Jordan” played. There were sports, too, although he avoided most of those because he didn't need to give them any other reason to make fun of him.

Overall, it wasn't so bad. To his relief, there was none of the group therapy he'd expected to see. That was the sort of thing you saw on television, a room full of people sharing their deepest, darkest secrets with each other. Taylor couldn't have done that. It was hard enough just to sit in a room alone with his therapist, Dr. Morris, and tell him anything meaningful at all. 

Dr. Morris had, at least, picked up on Taylor's slight claustrophobia. They never held their sessions in his tiny office. On this particular today, they were sitting outside, Taylor sprawled across the top of a picnic table, while Dr. Morris rested his elbows on the table next to him. 

“You know, you've been making pretty good progress so far...”

“There's going to be a but, isn't there?” Taylor asked.

“I'm afraid so,” Dr. Morris replied. “We're going in circles around the real reason _why_ you keep doing this to yourself. I know the basic story—like anyone else, it started for fun and then became... not so fun. A habit. An addiction. Anyone in here could have told me the very same thing.”

“I'm not special, Doc,” Taylor replied. “Why does my story have to be any different from anyone else's?”

“That's not what I meant. Why don't you tell me some more about your girlfriend? Maureen, was it?”

Taylor knew the doctor was just trying to distract him before he got angry. It was a decent tactic, especially if it allowed Taylor to talk about Maureen. She happened to be his favorite topic.

“She's amazing,” Taylor said with a pathetic sigh. “I don't even deserve her at all. In all honesty, Maureen probably needs a therapist of her own... she had a crazy sheltered childhood. But most of the time, until you find some little gap in her pop culture knowledge or something, you wouldn't know it. She's far better adjusted than I am. But at the same time, she's so... innocent. But somehow wise. I would say she's like no one else I've ever known, but... well, there was one person.”

“Your wife,” Dr. Morris replied. Taylor had only shared the barest details of that situation with the doctor, but he knew eventually they would have to talk about it.

Taylor sighed. “Yeah. Her name was Natalie. But we were talking about Maureen.”

“Were we?” Dr. Morris replied, sounding somewhat amused. “What is it about Maureen that reminds you of Natalie, then?”

“Like I said, her innocence,” Taylor began. He could already feel tears welling up in his eyes, and he wanted to blame it on the detox, but he knew he couldn't. “The world still scares her, but she's got this sense of wonder about it, too. Maybe Natalie wouldn't have that anymore, though. She was only eighteen when... well. She was the same age as me; maybe she would be all bitter and cynical by now. Maureen might be by the time she gets to be my age, too. But for now she's still kind of a kid, in a lot of ways. I guess that's the main similarity. And even though I met them both at concerts, neither of them wanted to just be another groupie. They both made that very clear, and I think that made me want them more. A girl who wasn't falling all over herself to spend one night with me. It sounds awful to say, but I don't meet a lot of girls like that. They stand out.”

Dr. Morris smiled. “We always want what we can't have.”

“Ah, but I could have both of them. Just not... for something cheap and sleazy. They wanted more than that, and it made _me_ want more. That's what made them so different from everyone else. I had to chase them both, had to convince them I was worth the trouble—even when I wasn't sure I was—and it all just... made me fall for them.”

“It must be tough being away from Maureen right now, then.”

Taylor nodded. “The worst part is that she's so close. I know why I'm here, and why I can't see her, but... she's only a few miles away. And I'm here.”

“Let's go back to what you said about not being good enough for her,” Dr. Morris said, the soft tone of his voice in contrast with the way he'd so quickly changed the subject. He had a way of doing that, and Taylor still didn't like it.

“Well, I'm not, am I? I'm an addict.”

“Addicts are every bit as deserving of love as anyone else,” the doctor countered. “I'd say, in many causes, they need it even more than most.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean, though. She deserves someone who she doesn't have to worry about all the time. Someone more stable. Someone with less potential to hurt her.”

“Is it a foregone conclusion that you _will_ hurt her, then?” Dr. Morris asked.

“I already have.”

The doctor stared at Taylor for a moment, and Taylor had to turn away from his eyes. “Are we still talking about Maureen, or are we talking about Natalie again?”

Taylor sighed heavily and raked his hand through his hair. “Both. Natalie, I guess.”

“How did you hurt her?”

“Don't you know all of this already?” Taylor asked, even though he knew that Dr. Morris didn't. “I killed her. And our baby.”

The doctor didn't flinch or even blink. “Did you strangle them to death? Cause a car crash that took their lives?”

“No. And no.”

“Then how did you kill them?” Dr. Morris asked.

“It was the cocaine,” Taylor said. “The doctors never said for certain, but it had to be. She only did it once, with me, the night she got pregnant. That had to be it.”

“Taylor, you must know that's highly unlikely. One time use... yes, sometimes people overdose the very first time. And long term users often pass the addiction and its side effects on to their babies. But for one use to cause not only a stillbirth, but the death of the mother... it's very unlikely. Any number of other things could have been at fault.”

“But isn't the most obvious answer the most likely?” Taylor asked, his voice softer and weaker than he expected.

“Sometimes,” the doctor replied. “But not when there isn't any evidence to back it up. _Your_ drug habit would have had little to no effect on any child you conceived. If Natalie only used once... it's hardly enough to cause any problems. In the absence of any other medical reasons, then I'm afraid it was just one of those things that happens that not even the best doctor could have prevented.”

“That's not very reassuring.”

The doctor shook his head. “No, it's not. But it's the best I can offer you. In my medical opinion, although I am only a psychiatrist, I don't think you were at fault for your wife and child's death. Is that any better?”

“Only slightly.”

“How about we look at it this way instead. Whether it was your fault or not, it wasn't intentional. You wouldn't _try_ to kill your wife and child, would you?”

Taylor frowned. “Of course not.”

“Then I'm willing to absolve you of all guilt. But I'm not the one who matters. _You_ have to choose to stop blaming yourself. When you do, you can move on without fear of hurting every single person you let into your life.”

“Who said I was afraid of that?” Taylor asked, just to be petulant.

“Didn't you?” Dr. Morris replied. “I could have sworn I heard it somewhere...”

The strangest thing about rehab, Taylor decided, was having a therapist with a sarcastic sense of humor.

“Anyway, how do you suppose we can absolve you of that guilt entirely?”

“It's impossible,” Taylor replied. “I would have to apologize to Natalie. She would have to accept. If I knew _she_ didn't blame me, even if everyone else did, then it would be okay.”

“You're deflecting.”

“Am I?” 

Dr. Morris nodded. “You don't even know if Natalie _would_ blame you, if she were here to do so. You're the one choosing to carry all this guilt around.”

“So I need to forgive myself?”

“Precisely.”

Taylor picked at the picnic table's peeling paint. “And how do I do that?”

“It's a process,” he replied. “Much like being a recovering addict. You never finish recovering; it's something you choose to do every day.”

“I was hoping it would be simpler than that. Just another one of your homework assignments,” Taylor said. The homework, usually something for him to write or some forced interaction with another of the patients, made Taylor feel like a kid again, but in spite of himself, he could see the purpose of it.

Dr. Morris smirked. “Oh, there's one of those, too. This one may be difficult.”

“That's okay,” Taylor replied, even though he wasn't sure that it was.

“Since you obviously feel like you have a lot left unsaid to Natalie, I would suggest writing her a letter. It doesn't matter that you can't really send it, since you're the one who will benefit from the writing anyway. Apologize to her. Explain to her what your mindset was then, why you felt you needed to use. Tell her what you're doing now and how you're learning to be better. Tell her about Maureen, if you want. Say everything you need to say. Apologize. Get it all off your chest. Even if you can't deliver the letter, I guarantee you'll feel better afterward.”

“That feels like a big, important homework assignment,” Taylor replied after letting it sink in for a moment.

“It is,” Dr. Morris agreed, nodding. “I think, after you finish it, we can talk about when Maureen can come visit. There's no time frame on this, Taylor. Take the time you need to get it right. We'll keep talking in the meantime.”

Talking... Taylor was starting to get tired of that, which he hoped meant their session for that day was almost over.

“Do you think you can handle that?”

Taylor shrugged and gave Dr. Morris a weak smile. “I'll have to.”

“Good enough for me,” the doctor replied. “Same time Thursday?”

“Sounds good,” Taylor replied, even though he knew the schedule was already planned for him. 

He remained on top of the picnic table as the doctor walked away. Taylor wasn't sure yet that he believed him. Although few of them had truly blamed him, not in so many words, it had always seemed that everyone in his and Natalie's families just accepted that her death was Taylor's fault. What if it wasn't? He'd never really considered that possibility. Even if it was... that didn't _have_ to mean he would do the same thing to Maureen. He was learning, slowly, that just as the doctor had said, nothing about himself was a foregone conclusion. He could change, if he wanted to badly enough. And he did. He really, really did.


	37. Praying For Redemption

Although Maureen spoke to Taylor on the phone nearly every day, weeks went by without a single visit. It was partially a condition of his rehab and partially because she found herself very busy during the last semester of her junior year. In her more paranoid moments, Maureen felt like she might never see him again, even though she knew that wasn't true. She would see Taylor eventually, and she didn't think she would rest easily until she did.

When everything worked out and she was finally able to visit him, Maureen found herself suddenly very nervous. Even though she had seen Oak Grove before and knew that it was a perfectly normal and safe place, she still had nervous butterflies in her stomach during the entire drive there. It was silly, but she couldn't stop that feeling that something bad was going to happen.

What if Taylor had changed? Of course he had changed, Maureen reminded herself. She could hear it in his voice when they talked. It was a good change, she knew, but what if it changed things between them? That, she decided, was what worried her so much.

Just like that first day, the cab deposited her in front of the center's main building. Maureen had gone over the plan for the day multiple times with Taylor, so she knew she had to go inside and sign in as a visitor at the front desk, where she would receive a badge allowing her to wander around the grounds with Taylor for several hours. She went through the plan, exactly as he'd explained it to her, and was just clipping the badge onto her shirt when she heard a voice call her name.

“Maureen!”

She spun around, coming face to face with Taylor. Of course the voice belonged to him; who else could it have been?

He was walking quickly down the hallway toward the nurse's station where she stood. As Maureen had expected, he looked different. It was a good different, though. He'd gained a little weight, she thought. His face looked fuller, rounder and _happier_. He wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans, and looked more normal than he ever had in the time she'd known him. This was Taylor, she decided, with everything else stripped away. She liked it. 

With a big smile spreading across her face, she ran toward him and flung her arms around his neck. “It's so good to see you, Tay!”

“It's good to see you, too,” he replied, chuckling softly. “It's never been so hard to go this long without seeing you.”

“I know,” Maureen replied, and it was true. She knew exactly what he meant. Even though she knew he was getting better, it was infinitely harder to know he was only miles away but still out of her grasp.

But now he wasn't, at least for a few hours.

Hand in hand, they walked around the center. Taylor pointed out everything they passed to Maureen, as though she hadn't taken a guided tour just a few weeks prior. She liked it better with him narrating, though. He cracked jokes and informed her what the best dishes in the cafeteria were. He glossed over certain details of his treatment, but Maureen thought better than to press for more information. Taylor would share what he wanted when he was ready. For all she knew, he wasn't even at a spot where he _could_ tell her all about it. Still, as they walked around the center's little pathways in the early March sunlight, Maureen was happy. Taylor seemed happy, too, and that was all she needed to see to ease her worries.

They ended Maureen's visit just sitting in Taylor's cabin. It hadn't been a terribly taxing day, but Maureen didn't mind sitting down and resting for a while before she had to leave. The cabin was starting to really look lived in, but she supposed it would after so many weeks. Taylor's clothes and books were scattered around, and there were a few dishes in the sink. Lived in, but not messy, just like his apartment back in Tulsa.

“Doing a lot of reading?” Maureen asked, eyeing the stack of books on the small bedside table.

Taylor nodded. “They've got a big library here. Mostly a lot of self help books—no surprise there. But there's some good fiction, too.”

“Shouldn't you be reading the self help stuff?”

“I suppose,” Taylor replied. “But it's one thing to read it, and another to actually live it. I like the practical approach.”

“Fair enough,” Maureen said, stretching to pick up the book on the top of the stack. “What's this one about, then?”

“A detective, investigating his childhood friends' disappearances. The ending is disappointing.”

“Hmm,” Maureen replied, opening the book and flipping through the pages. From somewhere around the middle, a folded piece of paper fell out. “What's this?”

Taylor paled. “It's, umm, one of my homework assignments. I have to do all these things, as part of the therapy, and that one was a letter I was supposed to write... to Natalie.”

“And then what? I mean, what are you supposed to do with the letter?”

Taylor shrugged. “Whatever I want. It's more for my benefit than anything else, obviously. Since I can't give it to Natalie. But I was thinking... maybe when I get out, I can go visit her grave. I never have. I can leave the letter there.”

Maureen held the letter loosely in her hand, as though it might burn her. 

“You can read it,” Taylor said softly. “You're... you're in it. I talked about you in it. You can read it.”

Although she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to, Maureen unfolded the paper anyway. She smoothed out the folds carefully, and turned slightly away from Taylor before beginning to read.

 

_Dear Natalie,_

_It's been eight years, you know. Of course you don't know. Or maybe you do. Honestly, I don't know if I believe in heaven or hell, so I don't know what's become of you._

_I know what should have become of you. You should have ended things with me, graduated from high school and gone off to college with Kate, just like you planned. You should have become a nurse and helped countless people. You could have done it, I know, even if you couldn't fix me. You did help, though. More than you knew. When I first found out you were pregnant, it felt like my world was closing in on me, but at the same time, it gave me a second chance. A chance to get things right._

_And then it was taken from me and from you._

_You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of what happened when we were together, and I am so, so sorry. I'm sorry for what was my fault, what I knew I was doing, and what happened as a consequence of my choices. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that you didn't get to have the life you wanted before me, or the life you were beginning to build with me and our baby. My therapist says that part isn't my fault, but I don't know. It feels like it is, so I'm sorry for that, too._

_You were always so patient with me, though. So forgiving. You would have no doubt told me it wasn't my fault at all. At least, I'd like to think you would have. You stood by me through so much, Natalie. So many times you should have given up and left, but you were just too damn stubborn. And I forgive you for that. I suppose that's what love does. It makes you want to fight. It made me want to fight to be rid of you, so that you could have a better life than I knew you would have with me, and you'll never know how much I wish I'd won that fight._

_But I can't go back. I can't keep dwelling on everything I've left undone. I have to keep moving, and fix what can be fixed. As it turns out, I'm one of those things. I thought I was broken beyond repair, and I'd reveled in that. I'd found this sick and twisted beauty in being horrible and broken. But I'm not, Nat. There's still something good in me. Who knew?_

_For a long time, it felt so wrong to even consider falling in love with someone else. It felt like such a betrayal of your memory. But I know you would call me stupid for thinking that. You'd want me to find love and happiness, wouldn't you? Well, Nat, I did. In so many ways, she reminds me of you, but I know it's not fair to compare the two of you. You and Maureen (that's her name, by the way) are your own people, and I love you both for exactly who you are. I think you would approve of her, though. She's sweet and innocent like you, and stubborn as hell, too. She made me realize that I was hanging onto something that was only hurting me, and that I had the potential to be so much more. Just like you and that baby made me feel._

_I'm not saying I couldn't have changed for you, too. I don't know what our future would have held, but I know how alive I felt in those last few months with you. I feel that again now. And I finally feel ready to stop dwelling on how dead I felt after you left me. I'm finally ready to be happy. If there is a heaven and you are looking down on me, I hope you're happy, too. I hope you and our baby are up there together, enjoying all the happiness I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to give you. And I'm so, so sorry I never got the chance to try._

_But now... now I'm okay, Nat. Whether things happened the way they should have or not, I'm happy now. The last time I felt that was with you, I think. I'd almost forgotten it. I'm ready to embrace it now. I'm ready to just... live._

_Love, Taylor_

 

When Maureen set the letter down, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes. Although a tiny part of her was jealous that Taylor had said he still loved Natalie, she knew that was unreasonable. She couldn't be jealous of a dead woman. Even if she was... Taylor had also said he loved _her_ , and that hadn't slipped by Maureen unnoticed.

“I'm not sure tears were the intended reaction,” Taylor said, chuckling awkwardly.

“No,” Maureen replied, shaking her head. “They're good tears. Honestly.”

“Yeah? So you think... you think I should take the letter to her? Maybe talk to her a little bit more. Just finally say goodbye.”

Maureen nodded. “I think she deserves a goodbye. And I think you need to give her one.”

“Good,” Taylor replied, smiling. “I think... I'll get settled into my new place, and then I'll make the arrangements to go see her. I don't think I can face her family, but I need to see Nat.”

“Do you want... do you want me to go with you?” Maureen asked nervously.

“Honestly? Yeah. But I think this is something I should do alone.”

Maureen nodded, trying to hide her sigh of relief as she did so. She couldn't help feeling nervous about letting him go alone, but it also didn't feel like her place to go with him. But once he returned, she had a feeling things would finally start to settle down, even though she couldn't quite believe that he was really going through with his plan to move to Chicago permanently.

“I won't be gone long,” he added. “Then we can spend the whole summer together. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Maureen replied, smiling. “And Tay? I love you, too.”


	38. Coming Home To You

A few short weeks later, Maureen found herself standing inside a beautiful old brownstone house just a few blocks from Northwestern's campus. She couldn't quite believe that Taylor had so easily bought a house without even seeing it in person, but he had. The fact that she was standing in it was pretty solid proof.

The rehab center had apartments for their graduates, but Taylor had arranged to have his own place instead. Maureen knew that he wanted to ask her to move in with him, but for whatever reason, he hadn't. That was fine by her; it was far too soon, in her opinion, to move in together. Still, he needed someone to stay with him and provide him support.

That was where Zac came in.

While Maureen and Summer worked to arrange the furniture and things that had been shipped from Taylor's old apartment in Tulsa, Zac was somewhere along the road to Chicago in a U-Haul with his own belongings. Maureen knew, from talking to Taylor, that he and Zac had talked a lot during the last few weeks. He'd been a lot more supportive than Taylor expected, so he volunteered to move to Chicago all on his own without Taylor even asking it of him. Maureen suspected the fact that Summer was in Chicago had a little something to do with that, but either way, she was glad the two brothers were mending their relationship.

“Where should we put all of these books?” Summer asked, hefting a large box into the living room. 

Maureen shrugged. She wished Taylor could have been there to help, but she knew he trusted her to organize the place. He would be there soon, she knew. They'd decided to let Zac be the one to check him out of rehab, and once that was done, the two of them would be there to relieve Maureen and Summer from doing all the heavy lifting.

“Just put them in the extra bedroom, I guess,” Maureen finally replied.

The brownstone wasn't large, but it was very nearly perfect for Taylor and Zac. The bottom floor was nothing but a studio apartment, which Taylor was already excited to transform into a recording studio. The second floor held the living room, which Maureen was currently arranging, the kitchen, dining room and a small guest bedroom. On the top floor were two master suites that were nearly identical—perfect for the two brothers. 

Maureen was so consumed with organizing Taylor's extensive DVD collection that she didn't even notice that Summer had entered the room again until she spoke.

“So, aren't you worried about him going off to Georgia next week?”

“Not really,” Maureen replied. “It's not like he's going to see a living woman he could cheat on me with. He's going to say goodbye.”

“I would still be worried,” Summer said, running her hand along the windowsill. “Just... letting him go off anywhere alone right now.”

“You haven't seen him, Summer. He's better now. Honestly, I think he's really changed for good. And that's scary, in a way, because I almost don't recognize him, but... this is the real Taylor, I think. The guy I knew was in there somewhere, if Taylor could just let him out. So I trust him.”

Summer seemed to consider Maureen's words for a moment before giving her a smile. “I hope you're right.”

“And what about you?” Maureen asked raising an eyebrow.

“What about me?” Summer replied, feigning innocence.

Before Maureen could call her out for that, a loud knock came at the door. A second later, it flew open and a voice Maureen barely recognized called out, “Is anyone home?”

By the way Summer's face lit up just before she rushed out of the room toward the small foyer, Maureen could guess exactly who was behind that voice. Besides, there weren't any other visitors expected besides Zac... and Taylor.

He appeared suddenly in the doorway, his hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets but a wide smile on his face. Maureen couldn't stop herself from rushing forward and flinging herself into his arms. Taylor grasped her with more strength that she remembered him having and buried his face in her hair, laughing softly. 

“It's so good to see you, Maur.”

“I'm just so glad you're here... to stay,” Maureen replied, pulling back and looking into Taylor's eyes. While the rest of him looked different, she could still see him—the him she'd always known he was—in his bright blue eyes, brighter now than they'd been in the entire time she'd known him.

Taylor leaned down and kissed her forehead. “How about you give me the grand tour, then?”

“Gladly,” she replied, taking his hand and guiding him through the main floor of the house. 

The rooms were packed tightly into the narrow building, but they were larger than Maureen had expected. It was still messy, with a large portion of both boys' belongings still in Tulsa and the rest scattered around and only halfway unpacked, but it was already starting to look like a home. 

After showing him the kitchen, dining room and guest bedroom that overlooked the tiny backyard, she led him back through the living room and foyer, down the small staircase to the basement. 

“This will be your studio,” Maureen said, nudging the door open. So far, the room was completely empty and didn't really look like anything, but it made Taylor smile anyway.

“You know this room is the whole reason I bought the place,” Taylor admitted. “Most of them have the basements too finished, split up into extra bedrooms and stuff. But a big open space... we can make a good studio out of that.”

Maureen followed Taylor's eyes around the room, but she couldn't see what he saw. “Do you think you and Zac will do a lot of recording?”

“I hope so,” Taylor said softly. “I don't know what will happen to the band. But I hope we can work, at least the two of us. I want to.”

“What about Isaac?” Maureen hated herself for asking it when she knew it might upset Taylor, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Taylor shrugged. “He couldn't move out here even if he wanted to. He's got Nikki and the kids to think about. What's keeping me and Zac in Tulsa, though? But... honestly, I don't know. I think he'll come around eventually, when he sees that Zac's right and I really am doing better. Until then, we can work on stuff together, I can send some demos to the guys, to my other band. It'll work out... in time.”

Maureen wrapped her arms around Taylor's waist and gave him a smile. “I'm sure you're right. It'll just take time and patience. And this new positivity you've got, which I'm a big fan of, by the way.”

“I like it, too,” Taylor admitted, returning her smile. “Now come on, show me the rest of this place.”

With one arm still wrapped around Taylor's waist, she led him out of the basement, up both flights of stairs to the third floor. There was a small landing, off which two doors opened. Each led to a bedroom complete with its own bathroom. Maureen paused at the top.

“I put your stuff in the one overlooking the backyard, but it's alright if you want the other one.”

Taylor smiled. “That's fine. I think a little quiet, peaceful view would be good for me. I was starting to really feel at home out in that cabin, you know.”

“Then maybe we should have moved into the woods somewhere,” Maureen teased.

“We?” Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow.

Maureen blushed, not even having noticed her own slip-up. “You know what I mean.”

“I think I do,” Taylor replied, ducking into his new bedroom with a smirk on his face.

Maureen stood outside the bedroom for a moment to collect herself and stop blushing. She truly hadn't meant to imply that she would be living with Taylor; she knew she wouldn't, at least not right away. She still had a year of college left, and she didn't want to force Summer to look for another roommate. If she and Taylor were barely at the point of moving in together, then Summer and Zac were nowhere near it at all.

When she finally made her way into the bedroom, she found Taylor standing by the window that overlooked the yard. His head was tipped back and she could hear the distinct sound of pills rattling in a bottle.

“Taylor?” She asked nervously.

He spun around quickly, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. He glanced at the bottle in his hand, then back at Maureen. “Oh, Maur... no, these are prescription, and non-addictive. They are pain pills, though, but they barely even take the edge off. That's the problem with the ones that aren't habit-forming.”

That did little to reassure Maureen, but she took a few steps closer to him anyway.

“I know that had to look bad, though,” Taylor said, stuffed the pill bottle back into his pocket and holding his arms out to Maureen. “Come on, you know after... after everything I went through, I wouldn't turn back the very day they let me out. You can look up the pills online if you want. You can even talk to my doctor.”

“No, I believe you,” Maureen replied, and she did. It still scared her to see Taylor tossing back pills like candy, but there was honesty in his eyes. She could see that.

She let herself slip into his arms, and remained there for a long time, just enjoying the way it felt. Maureen had never felt so at home, and she wasn't sure if that was only to do with Taylor being there or if it was the house, too. Whatever it was, it was a feeling she liked and didn't want to ever lose. After years on the road with her father and a half-life at college, she hadn't known if she would ever really know what _home_ felt like. Finally, she did.


	39. Where You End And Where I Begin

Taylor tugged at his tie, and silently cursed himself for deciding to wear one. Zac hadn't. Zac was smart. Only Taylor would be dumb enough to wear a tie to an outdoor graduation ceremony in May.

From his seat, he really couldn't even see Maureen at all, but he knew she was there. That was really all that mattered—that once again, they were together. They spent nearly every moment that way, especially now that she'd finally conceded to move into his and Zac's house. It still felt a little wrong not to be able to spot her in the crowd.

When they called Summer's name, Taylor stood up with Zac and cheered loudly. Zac was louder, of course, but that didn't surprise Taylor at all. The love on his face as he whooped and whistled for his girlfriend was clear to anyone around. 

It had taken them until three months ago to actually admit they were dating, even though it was so obvious to Taylor, Maureen and anyone else who knew them. They would sneak around, trying and failing to stay quiet whenever Summer visited the house. Finally, when Zac could stand it no longer, he had gone all out and asked Summer to officially be his girlfriend—for certain definitions of “ask.” In actuality, he'd chosen to have her dorm room filled entirely with roses on Valentine's Day. After that, neither of them blushed and denied it when anyone asked if they were a couple.

The only bad side effect of their now-official relationship, as far as Taylor could tell, was that all of Zac's songs were now sappy love songs. They were working together on new music all of the time, though, and had even sent a few demos off to Isaac. It was hard to keep the band going over such a distance, but it was slowly becoming obvious that all three of them, even Isaac, wanted to. It might not be soon, but someday, they would put out another album, and that was good enough for Taylor.

It had been a long road to happiness and contentment for Taylor. He still struggled some days—he didn't even trust himself to go out for a few beers with friends, and there were still days that everything just _hurt_. But it was all physical. Emotionally, it seemed the entire burden had been lifted. 

The trip to Georgia had helped more than he could explain. Taylor did feel a little guilt for going on his own without Maureen, but it was his burden, not hers. Once he was there, in the small graveyard beside Natalie's family's church, he'd unburdened himself of everything that had plagued him for nearly a decade. He left the letter as well, but before doing that, he'd sat in front of her headstone and talked for hours, sharing all of his fears and worries, but all of the good things in his life, too. Everything he'd ever wanted to share with Natalie, he did. Once the words had left him... it seemed the emotions had, too.

He was finally free.

When Maureen's name was finally called and she walked across the stage, Taylor flew out of his seat and mustered all his vocal strength to cheer as loudly as possible. Although Maureen glanced his way, he couldn't be certain that she'd seen him. That was okay, though. She knew he was there, supporting her. 

Taylor was fairly certain it bothered him more than it bothered Maureen than she had no real family there for her graduation. He'd wanted to persuade her to contact her mother—surely she would want to be present for such a milestone in her daughter's life—but he didn't dare. It seemed Maureen had closed up those old wounds and they'd scarred over to the point that it didn't even hurt anymore. Taylor didn't dare say or do anything that might open them up again.

For the most part, she was happy. Taylor could see that. They had talked about getting her a few sessions with Dr. Morris, though, and although Maureen hadn't entirely agreed to it, Taylor thought she could see the wisdom in it. He still saw the doctor a few times a month, but now they were focused on Taylor's present, not his past. The past no longer haunted him the way he feared it did Maureen.

But they were happy together, happier than Taylor had known was possible for him to ever be. 

When the ceremony ended and all the caps had been tossed, the crowd around them surged. Taylor decided to stay put and wait for Maureen; he had no doubt she could and would find him. Sure enough, moments later, he saw a mass of blonde curls in the wind, headed straight toward him. Her gown was open, revealing a pink and white floral dress below. Trailing behind her was Summer, a much shorter bright blue dress below her gown. She practically leaped into Zac's arms, while Maureen lingered and waited for Taylor to sweep her up and kiss her forehead.

The four of them had to look strange together, but Taylor couldn't have imagined anything else that would have felt more right.


End file.
